Primeval
by Melboriel
Summary: Legolas leads a double life: to the outside world he is the fair & noble Prince of Mirkwood, but in reality he's the cold & calculating killer called the Black Wind. & he's on a mission: to retrieve the One Ring & kill the Fellowship...
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: You guessed it. I don't own anything. Except my original characters and the plot (which, lets face it, is nothing to write home about) All other things are © their respective owners.

Primeval 

**The Prologue **

The wind moaned along the deserted alleyways and out along the dark main road. It brought with it stinging rain, which drove all but the most hardy of the village's inhabitants into the relative warmth and safety of their homes.

But this wind also brings a deadlier foe. One shrouded in darkness and devilry. His name is known to none, and his appearance only to those who wont live long enough to tell of what they see.

The "Black Wind" he is hailed. For the moaning wind is the herald of his coming, and  despair and sorrow always follow in his wake.

See him now, as he crouches atop a rooftop. Clothed in a midnight cape, he is all but invisible in the night. The wind swirls his flaxen mane around his face, yet he pays no heed to his namesake's deeds, there are more important things on his mind. He is watching the street below, waiting… a movement to his left catches his eye. It was but slight, and gone in an instant; but his eyes are sharp, and adapted to the semi-light of the waning moon.

Dropping silently from his ledge, he steals swiftly through the shadows. He is tall, yet slightly built, and he moves with a cat-like grace, almost gliding across the uneven cobbles of the wide, winding street.  And he makes not one sound.

The one he seeks is just ahead, moving at an uneasy gate, continuously looking over his shoulder, perhaps sensing the presence of his unseen enemy. His name is Nerrol Carrachor; a man with divided loyalties; a dead man.

 He is noisy: cumbersome human feet slapping wetly onto the damp cobbles; panting breath heavy and echoing in the silent air. If he hopes to escape from the "Black Wind" he is sadly mistaken.

 _This is too easy._

Quietly, the "Black Wind" turns down a narrow alleyway, he runs its course quickly and jumps lithely atop the wall at its end, a dead-end to some; to him: a short cut.

He allows himself a brief smile. _Oh yes, too easy_. He can hear the footsteps of his prey, they come closer, quickly though faltering, as if the bearer turns still to see whether he is being perused.

_Look not behind you, but above you,  fool._

_'Know thy enemy as thy know thy self: his strengths and weaknesses are your weaknesses and strengths._ Remember always this fundamental rule.' From his waking moment, the "Black Wind" had been taught this mantra. It had been drilled into him; beaten into him from the first instant he had picked up a sword. And twas sound advice. It had meant his survival many a time, and now- in a very real sense- he lived by it.

_Know thy enemy_…  he knew this enemy. 

This enemy was directly beneath him, and they had stopped, apparently thinking themselves free from danger. It could not be more perfect.

Like a raptor swooping in for the kill, the "Black Wind" dropped nimbly onto his victim.  He landed hard on the man's back, who fell heavily with a muffled cry. The uneven surface of the ground knocked the wind out of Nerrol, but not so out of his attacker, who hit the ground and rolled agilely to his feet- long bladed knife in hand- ere the man could draw breath.

But he did not attack; instead he stood, black cape and golden hair billowing in the wind; and he waited for Nerrol to take to his feet, a sadistic grin twisting his lips. He could have just killed him, but that would have been no fun, he was like a cat baiting a mouse. A very deadly cat.

Nerrol Carrachor scrambled to his feet, clutching his side where it had slammed into the cobbles. He looked up and, espying his aggressor, hastily jerked free his short sword. "Y-you stay away from me, you f-fiend!" squeaked the man, holding his sword out in front of him as if it were a deadly snake. 

The dark figure laughed, a soft, silky sound; like a silk kerchief over a steel blade. "Oh come now, Nerrol! I, a fiend? I'm your friend. I merely wish to talk." To emphasise his words, he sheathed his knife, and spread his hands in a gesture of good-will. "Let us speak as old friends should." He took a step forward, arms still outspread

Nerrol took a step back, and raised his sword defensively. "I'm warning you…! Take one step closer and I'll…I'll"

The figure kept on walking. "You'll what, Nerrol? Wave that bent piece of shoddy forge-work at me and hope I'll walk into the blade?" He laughed again, but was cut off as- with surprising agility- the man leapt forward, sword blade arcing overhead: aiming straight for the fiend's heart.

With a cool serenity, the one known as the "Black Wind" side-stepped the man's thrust, and neatly swept his legs out from under him. With a yelp of surprise, Nerrol crashed to the floor. Like lightning, the dark figure was atop him, knife pressed to his throat, leering down at his captive.

"Tsk, tsk" said he, with a shake of his head. "And to think we could have been such good friends too. But you've ruined all that now, haven't you Nerrol?" he pressed the tip of his knife into the man's voice box, drawing a small spot of blood. Nerrol gurgled. "Now," continued the aggressor in a cheery voice. "Here's how it works: I ask the questions. You tell me the right answer, you live. You tell me the wrong one. You die. Simple. Do you understand?"

Nerrol rolled his eyes in reply, but did not speak. "Oh good!" this was said with a bright smile, but there was absolutely no humour in those dark eyes, they glinted maliciously, and then his tone matched his eyes… soft and malignant. The playing around was done. "Tell me where the Yellow Ajun are hiding. I know you know; a man with as many friends as yourself… Tell me!"

He released his death grip on the man's throat, to allow him to speak. Nerrol just lay there panting for a few seconds, staring defiantly up at his captor.

"I tire of waiting, Nerrol" the knife point pricked his throat again and the man wheezed.

"I… I do not know… I- I swear!" he gasped.

The dark figure leaned close to his face, until his mouth was level with Nerrol's ear. "….Wrong answer." It hissed.

Nerrol's scream reverberated off the walls of the dark alleyway, but quickly faded to a muted gurgle as the shadowy form slit his throat with a slow precision; as if delighting in seeing the blood run down the man's neck, and bubble out his mouth in crimson geysers . He smiled, an insane light in his eyes.

_A cat who baits the mouse always gets the kill in the end…and more the pleasure for the fun before hand_

He glanced down at the blood staining his knife, wrinkled his nose and wiped it fastidiously on the dead man's coat. It was not like he'd be complaining.

Then the figure known by many as the "Black Wind" stood up, listened to the wind for a moment, and then slipped away and disappeared into the shadows of the  night.

There was work still to be done.

*******

A.N: well, that's basically the prologue. Review if you wish. I know it's not very good, but y'know.  Anyway, If you want the next bit: tell me. If you want me to give up: tell me. I'm not telepathic (as much as I like to convince people that I am) SO! I wont know if you don't tell me. ;)

Thank you, I hope you enjoyed.


	2. 1 Your mission is thus

**A/n:** Well, since I've been commanded by the "The Almighty and Powerful Mountain dew" to write more (who can refuse _that_ command?) here is the long-awaited (ahem) next Instalment of Primeval!! 

I dedicate this chapter to GhostCat, since their review has made my head swell to the size of a pumpkin ;) I hope this doesn't disappoint! (if it does feel free to batter me with a rubber herring)... and that goes for anyone else to! –Mel

Chapter One: "Your mission is thus…" 

****

Legolas Greenleaf, eldest son of King Thranduil, and Crown Prince of the Realm of Mirkwood, lounged sedately atop a broad bough of a tall Beech tree. To the untrained eye it would seem that the Elf Lord was as relaxed as his posture suggested: leaning back against the smooth greyish tree trunk, one leg dangling over the edge of the branch. But in reality he was as tense as a wound spring, and ready to leap into action as soon as the situation presented itself.

Although his eyes were downcast: apparently preoccupied with the wood carving in his hand- it was not finished yet, but had a vaguely feline look about it- Legolas was scanning the horizon through hooded eyelids, searching for any sign that would tell him of the whereabouts of the one he awaited.

His dreams had been visited the previous night by an indistinct figure in a black robe, who had spoken to him and told him to wait on a messenger from the Higher, who would appear before the roots of the Giant Beech ere the sun reached it peak, and deliver unto him a message of great importance. Legolas had been warned of the consequences- in graphic detail- if he failed to comply. Legolas shuddered at the memory… it hadn't just been a verbal description. 

Yet the sun had reached it zenith and tipped over long ago, and no one had come. The shadows were lengthening across the ground as the sun sank in the sky, and still Legolas waited, growing both anxious and annoyed. Legolas despised being kept waiting immensely, he considered it very rude

A yellowhammer was perched on a branch of a small birch tree, twittering its merry little tune to the world. Legolas eyes it askance. He disliked birds in general, but he especially hated song birds; in his point of view they were asinine little monsters whose only purpose was to sit on branches, sing gaily, and irritate their more significant neighbours-like Legolas.

Almost lazily, the Elf fitted an arrow to his bow, took aim, and shot the yellowhammer in mid-melody. He watched it drop to the ground emotionlessly; he took no pleasure in killing little birds, they just weren't taxing enough. Still… one less annoying song bird was always a good thing.

"A waste of a good arrow," observed a voice from the base of the tree. Legolas did not look down, or show any sign that he had even heard the comment. Instead he calmly nocked a new arrow and shot another unfortunate bird out of the sky in a rather ostentatious fashion. "What do you want, Crickhen?"

Legolas didn't need to ask who the speaker was- he could recognise that portentous tone anywhere. Nor did he need to ask how they had appeared without his noticing: Crickhen Moringolemo was a wizard; a dark Wizard. Expelled from the Heren Istarion [1] because of his treasonous perfidy to the White Council, and his  uncovered covert allegiance to the forces of Sauron and the Dark.

He was a powerful Wizard, hence his name: _Moringolemo_.(It meant Powerful Wizard of the Dark. Before his expulsion, he had been known as  _Calingolemo_: Powerful Wizard of the Light) and an influential member of the Higher Council. Unfortunately he and Legolas loathed each other, and Crickhen went out of his way to bring discredit on Legolas' deeds. 

"That is no way to talk to your superior, Elf. You should learn how to address your betters, and quickly, or else-by some unhappy chance- you may find that some dreadful misfortune befalls you." Answered the Wizard, sucking on his pipe. "And especially since I have come all this way just to deliver a message to you."

This time Legolas did look down, a mixed expression of shock and mirth on his face. "What?! The mighty Crickhen Moringolemo… reduced to a lowly messenger! Ha! Wonders shall never cease"

The Wizard hissed. "Watch your tongue, or you soon wont have one, you seditious  little bastard!" he shook his head, and glared up at Legolas. "You have ideas above your station Elf, and you forget who you truly are: merely a lowly squire, who jumps when his masters say toad, and doesn't stop jumping until they allow." The Wizard sneered. "Let me remind you of your true place in the Order: you are so small and inadequate that the Higher-myself included- do not feel you worth serious consideration; you are like the dirt I wipe off the bottom of my shoe, the dirt who would _lick_ my shoe if I ordered! You are-" Suddenly Legolas was before him, having not seemed to have crossed the intervening space between the branch and the ground. His slim dagger was pressed against the Wizard's throat, having shoved Crickhen hard to the ground with his other hand.

Legolas' eyes gleamed with an insane, murderous light. "I have often wondered how I would kill you, Moringolemo… in fact I have devised many ways." Murmured the Elf, stroking his dagger lightly across the Wizard's throat. His body weight kept Crickhen pinned to the floor, but the Wizard didn't struggle, he just glared up at Legolas out of narrowed eyes, as the eccentric Elf counted off ways of murdering him "Removing your hide in stripes, snapping that sinewy little neck of yours, even disembowelling you… but I have always preferred my favourite method… a knife across the throat… that way I would have the pleasure of hearing you screech like a squealing pig as I slit that scrawny little neck of yours."

Legolas began to press his dagger leisurely into Moringolemo's neck, ready to demonstrate his words. "I shall relish this moment for the rest of my life." He whispered, licking his lips softly. "Goodbye, Crickhen, I—"

Suddenly, and with incredible force, Legolas was flung backwards. His impromptu  flight ended as he crashed into a tree--- hard, he groaned as his head cracked against the unforgiving bark. The dagger slid harmlessly to the ground, and his eyes rolled up into his head.

And then, Darkness claimed him.

******

Legolas opened his eyes blearily to find Crickhen before him, gripping his face in powerful fingers, and pulling his head up painfully until they were nose to nose. Legolas grimaced as he felt the Wizard's foul breath on his cheeks. "Remember who you challenge, Elf!" the Wizard hissed, a fierce glint in his watery blue eyes.  "The Great Crickhen Moringolemo! I, the most powerful Wizard of them all, who helped defeat the Elves at Madden Mark, and slew the Great Merliz, Eldest of the Wizards of Old!

 "And you _dare_ scorn me?! _I_ could remove _your_ hide in stripes, snap _your_ neck and disembowel _you_! All ere you could draw that pathetic little knife of yours! You think that because you have slain a few pitiful Men and Elves, you are a match for ME?!" yelled the Wizard maniacally. "You will _never_ be a match for me! And  had I gotten my way, you would be dead by now; long dead. But no matter…" Crickhen paused, searching the Elf's face for any sign of emotion. What he saw made him smile, showing off many uneven yellow teeth. "You hurt don't you, Legolas?" he whispered. "I see the pain in your eyes, try as you may to hide it.  Do you think all that pain comes from your little… connection with the tree? Oh no, no, no, no… do you feel this?" Legolas screamed in pain, his eyes flared and his back arched as the Wizard worked his torturous magic. "This is just a small taster, my little Elf, a sort of... overture of things to come. 

"You see, the Higher have a quest for you, one of vast and incredible importance, and, unfortunately, they need you sound in body to carry out this mission, otherwise I would kill you now for your attempted assassination of myself, and  insubordination to all Higher Councillors. 

"But I am a patient man, Legolas, I can wait… and when you have completed you task, you will be mine. And then…" he released the Elf from his torture, and Legolas hung limp, supported only by the Wizard's fierce grip on his face. "And then, the fun will begin.

"However, we can look forward to such glorious future events when you have your perilous quest in hand! For now, I'm afraid I'll have to be satisfied with giving you just that small appetizer.

"Now… of you task! You need to know only this: The One Ring has been found" at Legolas' strangled gasp, Crickhen laughed. "Yes, I thought that might interest you. The One Ring has been found---by a Hobbit no less--- and is now being kept at that annoyance, Elrond's house in Rivendell. 

"We need you, Legolas, to ride to Rivendell, kill the bearer and retrieve that Ring by an means possible. But remember, this is a mission of espionage, and so must be done with the utmost covertness. You are an Elf, a well-respected and noble Elf, and therefore should not have any trouble entering Rivendell and the confidences of all concerned."

"Why me?" managed Legolas, with a lot of effort. His throat was hurting from the Wizard's strong grasp.

"The Higher chose you, because you specialize in subterfuge and deception, and they believe you highly capable" The Wizard winced at this admission " of this mission. All their confidence is placed in you--- although I personally do not share their estimations, and they do not like being proved wrong… do not disappoint them.  

"And just to make sure you don't… here's a little reminder of what's in store for you if you fail…"

******

Crickhen Moringolemo, the Dark Wizard released his grip on the Elf Lord 's face. Legolas crumpled to the ground gasping, and wrapped his arms around himself. He had never hurt so much in his life. His skin felt like it was on fire, as if ten thousand needle sharp knives had been stabbed into his flesh. His head was pounding, he was finding it hard to focus, and he couldn't feel the right side of his body, which, considering the rampaging agony the rest of him was in, could have been a blessing in disguise. He could here the Wizard laughing over the thudding of the blood in his ears. Legolas felt inner rage boil up inside of him. He was going to kill that bastard!

"Remember… do not fail us, Legolas." The Wizard's voice was mocking, he kicked the Elf in the gut, eliciting a moan of pain from the recumbent form.

Legolas felt a rush of cold wind on his face, and he opened his eyes. The Wizard had gone, leaving Legolas to nurse his wounds alone.

"You'll pay for this, Wizard." Cursed Legolas, as he staggered to his feet, wincing at the pain. He may have been an Elf, but this was almost too much even for him. He retrieved his dagger and thrust it deep into the tree, watching the sap drip morosely out of the wound he'd created. "You will rue the day you ever messed with me." 

But the Wizard could wait. Legolas had things to be seeing to, if he was to depart for Rivendell that night. Limping back towards his tethered horse, he twisted his dagger on his palm ponderously, thinking of ways to avenge himself. 

He smiled. The Wizard wasn't the only one who could be patient. Revenge was going to be very sweet….

*****

 Ok, so there you have it! The first chapter. I know it's confusing… it confuses me!

OK: want more? Want me to stop? Tell me, I'll still not telepathic ;)

[1] Heren Istarion: The council of Wizards


	3. 2 The Daesuuru

Chapter Two: The Daesuuru 

On a lonely hillock, somewhere West of the Old Ford, a, lone rider sat atop a great, fiery eyed steed. The fierce gale blew back the rider's hood, but he paid it no heed, letting the wind snatch up his hair and whip it out behind him, like a flurry of blond dervishes. Lifting a slim hand to shade his eyes from the glare of the setting sun, the rider surveyed the landscape with a wry smile. Away in the distance lay the High Pass through the Misty Mountains, and beyond that… the house of Lord Elrond at Rivendell. He had made good time from Northern Mirkwood: having travelled South along the Forest River, skirted the Mountains of Mirkwood from the North and finally joined the Old Forest Road, passing the Old Ford just a few days previous.  It would not be long now…

The horse tossed its head, as if eager to be off, the dark rider patted its neck soothingly. "Hush, my Thalion, my strong one, patience… patience yet. You will get what you desire soon enough…" He sound of approaching hoof beats silences the rider's words, but he did not turn to face them. There was only one person it would be.

Mordúlin

Before departing Mirkwood, Legolas had entered the Great Palace of King Thranduil, begging leave to be the one to journey to Rivendell with the news of that wretched creature Gollum's escape. He had needed a pretence to go. The King had granted his request, but ordered an escort to accompany him, saying that the Prince of Mirkwood could not travel alone in these treacherous times, especially to the noble dwelling of Elrond.

And so a party of five had set out: Prince Legolas and four of Mirkwood's finest warriors. And they had indeed been treacherous times… within a week of leaving the safety of the Wood Elves' realm, they had been set upon by a large party of particularly vicious  Orcs, two of their company were slain, and another badly injured. And so, Legolas- who strangely enough had suffered no hurt- had sent Arkas the Injured back to Mirkwood; the bearer of the foul fortunes of his comrades, and continued with the one remaining Elf- a warrioress of unsurpassed skill called Mordúlin.

They had encountered many more Orcs, roving packs of wargs and massive spiders on their journey, but, despite bad odds, and the amazing ferocity of their foes, they had managed to escape, if not unscathed then with their lives.

Unfortunately for Legolas that meant he had the company of the ever vigilant warrioress at his side all the time, and therefore couldn't concentrate on planning his mission properly. The girl thought too much; she needed to be disposed of.

"My—my Lord…?" asked Mordúlin hesitantly. "My Lord, are you alright?" She was scared of him, Legolas knew… _she is right to be _ 

He did not answer; instead he turned his head to look at her. She stiffened slightly under his cold, emotionless gaze as his dark eyes traced every line on her face, showing no sigh of what he was thinking. "The camp is ready?" he asked curtly, breaking the heavy silence. At her nod he smiled tightly. "Good."

******

"Do you like the wind, Mordúlin?"  Legolas sat across the fire from the she-Elf,  whetting his slim, black dagger on a rock. He looked her right in the eyes as he continued his slow scrape-scrape on the stone. 

"The wind, my Lord?" she asked, confused. "I do not understand."

"The wind can be your friend, Mordúlin. If you know how to use it." Whispered Legolas, never taking his eyes from hers. "You should never abuse the trust of the wind, it can be your only solace; your only saviour. When the wind blows in your favour you are truly blessed, Mordúlin, when it blows in your disfavour, you are ill-fated … the wind controls your destiny."

Mordúlin shifted on the ground and licked her lips unconsciously. She clearly thought him to be insane. Legolas grinned inwardly. "I will remember that my Lord." Said she, leaning forward to stoke the fire; dropping her guard slightly.

Legolas moved quickly. He sprang to his feet, jumped the fire, and caught the warrioress' slim wrist in his strong hand. She dropped the stoker with a cry. "What're you doing?!"

Legolas twisted her arm painfully behind her back, manoeuvring himself behind her, running his other hand down her neck and chest, pinning her other arm to her side. "Such soft skin…" he murmured into her ear, flicking his tongue out salaciously.  "Such beauty and grace… you are a most amazing creature, Mordúlin. I find it quite a shame that I'm going to have to kill you…"

"Legolas… Legolas, stop it, please, you're scaring me" pleaded Mordúlin, rolling her dark brown eyes in an effort to see her attacker.

"Legolas, Legolas," he muttered, running his tongue down her neck, she shuddered at his serpentine touch. "Why do you call me so? Tis my name by birth, yes,  but not my name by choice… do you know what my chosen name is, Mordúlin?" he paused, she could feel his hot breath oh her neck. "No? I will tell you then. Tis a good name, you will have heard of it, I think. The common people hold it in awe, they speak it only with hushed tones, and glances of fear. The Elf Lords and Ladies… they hold it in disgust, and speak it ever with furrowed brow and acid tongues. And  the Wind? Why, the wind holds it in reverence. Yes… the Eastern winds come at my bidding, and they dance  to my songs of death.

"Ahhhh! You are beginning to see! Do you know who I am now, Mordúlin?"

"_D__aesuuru_…!" Mordúlin moaned, tears of fear welling up in her eyes. "No! It isn't true! Not you! Not our Prince!"

He chuckled evilly. "Yes, _Daesuuru_, the Shadow Wind [1] That is what I am  hailed. Are you afraid of me now?" Legolas ran his hand along the she-Elf's hips, his hand closed on her knife. "You should be …" he raised the knife, ready to plunge it into her heart, but, in doing so, he released Mordúlin's arm, (the one pinned to her side) and  she shot her hand up, grapping a handful of his long locks, at the same time twisting forcefully; yanking free her other hand. 

Legolas hissed as she yanked on his hair, and in his surprise he loosened his grip on her wrist. She tore herself free of him before he could react, and smashed her fist into his abdomen. He gasped as the wind flew out of him, and her foot came into jarring contact with his skull, blurring his vision slightly

Mordúlin was on her feet now, eyes burning with hatred and disgust. She drove her foot into his chest, forcing him onto his back. "You treacherous bastard" she hissed bending down and grasping his hair, pulling his head up to face her. "How could you betray us like this? How?! Do you think you will get away with these atrocities? Do you?!"

His dark eyes were glazed, but he managed to focus on her face. "If you're going to kill me, why don't you just do it?" he said thickly.

She shook her head. "I'm not like you, I'm not a cold blooded murderer. I'm not going to kill you—although if anyone deserves death, it is you—but you wont get away with what your crimes, I am taking you to Rivendell, to Lord Elrond, there I am going to see justice done!" she reached out with her other hand, grasping for her heavy hafted knife, with the intent of knocking him out with the hilt in order to bind him.

Legolas moved so quickly that she didn't even notice until too late.  He flipped his hips up, twisted; unbalancing Mordúlin, she stumbled but managed to keep her footing. Legolas hissed and grabbed at her leg sending her crashing to the ground with a dead thud. She groaned but didn't get up. Legolas didn't waste any time, he rolled, snatched up the fallen knife and came to rest straddling the warrioress. 

She looked up at him through dull eyes. "You wont get away with this…" she said defiantly.

Legolas shrugged.

"Your fatal flaw..." he whispered. "…Compassion".

******

Legolas dragged the body of the Elven warrior away from the camp and into the cover of the trees. His head and chest were aching from Mordúlin's violent blows; she had been stronger than he thought. Blood tricked down his scalp and into his ear, he shook his head and grimaced. _Curse the little bitch! I'll have to rest tonight instead of going on as I intended._

He wandered back to the camp and looked around: the fire was burning low, so he tossed another log on it. The nights were getting cold, and he wished to be warm that night. A movement in the trees caught his sharp eyes, and he turned to regard the horses ponderously. Thalion, his own white steed rolled his eyes, and aimed a vicious kick at the other animal: a bright bay mare once belonging to Mordúlin. Legolas smiled, he had a very good horse.

But what to do with Mordúlin's animal? It was plausible that he could take it on with him to Rivendell, but he couldn't be bothered with that kind of hassle. He could let it go, but then it might make its way back to Mirkwood and arouse suspicion there.

Legolas shook his head. He wasn't thinking straight. That blow to the head must have done more damage than he first thought, of course he should let it go! Twas perfect!

The Elf hurried to his saddle bags and picked up his arrow quiver. From it he withdrew a heavy and barbed arrow; an Orc arrow. Grinning at his own genius, Legolas fitted the arrow to his bow and turned to the horses. The mare whickered and tossed her head nervously. _Smart animal_ thought Legolas as he raised his bow and took aim.

It was the perfect plan: when he arrived in Rivendell and was asked the inevitable question about his escort, he would tell them that just before reaching the High Pass he and Mordúlin were attacked by passing Orcs. They managed to slay most of them before the rest took to flight, but Mordúlin herself was slain, and dead before Legolas could reach her. He assumed the Elves of Imladris would trust his account of this, but just to back it up, he'd send the mare back to Mirkwood with an Orcish arrow wound in its side. If it didn't make it, it wouldn't matter. Legolas cared not. The point was if it did, the lone horse shouldn't cause too much comment.

Laughing at his own brilliance, the Elf Lord of Mirkwood, lifted his bow, took aim and let the arrow fly.

The mare screamed and reared, the arrow protruding from her left quarter, blood running down her leg.  She thrashed about, and pulled herself free of her tether in her panic. Legolas watched dispassionately as the injured horse crashed off through the woods, he stood listening until the noise had faded away, and the world was peaceful again. 

Then he walked over and patted Thalion on his broad neck, trailing his fingers through his snowy mane. "Tomorrow at sunrise, my old friend we ride for Rivendell…" he murmured. Legolas didn't just follow the will of the Higher, he had aspirations of his own "and then…the Ring of Power will be mine!"

******

Voila!  Hope you enjoyed! Sorry the action wasn't great. It's not really my forte! 

Anyway: chapter three: Legolas reaches Rivendell and attends the secret council…. What will ensue? You'll have to wait 'n' see ;)

**A/n:** I don't know when the next chapter will be up after this one, since I have a lot of exam revision and coursework deadlines coming up (Including French oral on Wednesday! Eek!) SO I don't know how much time I will have to devote to this and my other stories. But be patient ok? Legolas'll  get round to joining the Fellowship and wreaking havoc soon enough. ;)- Mel

And also, can you please tell me if you spot any spelling mistakes of grammatical discrepancies? I'm awful at that kind of thing, but I do think it ruins a good fic if there are a lot of errors. Thanks!


	4. 3 A Thoughtful Interlude

Chapter Three: A Thoughtful Interlude

****

The harsh rays of a Winter's sun shone down through a grove of wych elm trees; sending dappled shadows onto a ground strewn with newly fallen yellowed leaves. In the darker shadow of a tree's trunk, an animal waited, still and silent; not a muscle twitching, all senses centred towards one common goal.

Prey.

Its mottled ginger coat blended perfectly with the golden brown setting of the coppice; camouflaging it against any watching eyes.

It own amber orbs glowed slightly in the gloom, pupils black and dilated, watching for any movement in the undergrowth; waiting…

_There!_

A slight rustle of leaves, a flash of brown fur. The cat tensed, muscles knotting together, tail twitching in anticipation.

The little rodent sat back on its haunches, and- unaware of the danger lurking nearby- started to clean its whiskers. _Come closer little one… come to me and feel my bite…_ As if commanded by some higher power, the shrew scampered forward a few paces, drawing ever closer to its doom. The cat positioned itself: raising its hind quarters off the ground slightly, feeling the tight muscles bound up in its back legs. The timing must be just right…

_"Trak! Trak!"_ a harsh cry shattered the silence just as the cat uncoiled, like liquid steel. It misjudged its pounce, startled by the fieldfare's call, and landed away from its prey with a hiss of vexation.

The shrew scampered off; frightened but unharmed.

No matter.

It had escaped this one time perhaps, but there would be other opportunities… other prey… other kills.

The animal settled down once again, not hindered by impatience or frustration. 

A cat has infinite patience. It could wait.

******

Legolas of Mirkwood dismounted with a sigh: for he was weary with the pains of travel, and distressed by the loss of his comrades, or so the Elves of Imladris believed. They had greeted the Prince with smiles of joy, for it had been long since news of Mirkwood had reached the sheltered kingdom of Rivendell, but they too had shed many bitter tears at the news of the grievous loss of three of Mirkwood's finest warriors- especially that of Mordúlin, who had been dearly beloved by the Elves of Rivendell; where she had dwelt often when not out with a war party. She had been kind and gentle, and of a noble heart. It was sad tidings indeed that one such as she should be lost, especially in such troubled times, the free peoples of Middle-earth needed all the champions they could get. 

But some good had come of the tragedy at least, and the Prince of Mirkwood had reached them unharmed: in body if not in soul, for the death of friends can affect one more deeply than the surface shows, and so it was a subdued Erestor- chief counsellor of Elrond Peredhil-  who came to greet Legolas on that cold morning, hoping fervently to find the Prince not too deeply anguished… there were matters of great importance to be taken care of in Rivendell, and Legolas would have to be fit in mind if he was to join the council as Lord Elrond had planned.

"_Mae Govannen, _Legolas_. Un siniath tul-vys, ananta vys i maer?"_[1] asked the Elf Lord carefully, watching closely to see how Legolas reacted.

 "_Dan aur_, Erestor," answered Legolas with a small smile, he turned to his horse and busied himself with his saddle bags. "_Amin estel in rad vys maer? Trasta-vyskel il-o-sina edhel, amin athon guinar le-rim  bod-i-elen…_"[2]

Erestor sighed, it seemed to him that Legolas was certainly not alright, especially talking like that… and that smile… it just didn't seem right, Erestor decided that he would keep a close eye on the Prince.

"_Amin elea… vysa'tarias mesta ant ekhant vys drauth, hiluvan ar'vys tur-serin_." He paused, wondering whether to tell Legolas of the meeting, he decided on a compromise. " _Rata, lye athon quente."_[3]

The other Elf stiffened, but didn't protest, he must be really tired, Erestor thought, for normally the Elven Prince would not have stood for being told to rest; he would have insisted on talking there and then.  

This time however, he merely bowed his head, muttered a "_Vys vee'iest_"[4] tossed his reins to a servant with curt orders to care for his horse, and followed the Elf Lord without another word.

******

Legolas stood outside on his balcony, watching the sun cast a golden glow across the landscape as it rose. The soft gurgle of a small stream and the sigh of the wind in the branches of young willow trees should have been relaxing; it was to everyone else; but all it did was stoke the fury in Legolas' heart. It wasn't just the trees and the merry stream which earned his ire however, it was the whole place.

 _Rivendell. _

He _hated _it

He _hated_ the way the flowers always bloomed so perfectly. He _hated_ the way the birds always twittered in the trees. He _hated_ the way everyone had a smile on their faces. He hated the trees, the rivers, the fields, the animals, the songs, the people… the whole _ambience_ of the place just got under his skin. He loathed being there. It made him feel… dirty, but that was not the right word… polluted. Yes, that was it: polluted by all the joy and light. It made him want to vomit.

He twisted his lips in involuntary disgust. Of all the things he hated most about Rivendell, Lord Elrond the Half Elven was the thing he loathed the most. He epitomised everything that Legolas reviled: he was Wise and judicious, a fair and just ruler. He was loved by all these simpering fools in Rivendell and in other realms,  for they believed him to be good and kind: sheltering the poor and needy, healing the sick--- the weak who should be left to die, in Legolas' opinion--- but mostly Legolas despised him because he was powerful; commanding respect and reverence without demanding it.

Legolas tapped the balcony rail thoughtfully with one hand; massaging his knife hilt with the other. _Powerful you may be my _Lord_, and wise also. But soon you will bow to me! And you will grovel at my feet…  begging for release, begging for death…as will all who have dared oppose me. You will learn the price is high for those who resist the will of the Black Wind. For the day approaches when all my enemies shall feel the wrath of the NEW Dark Lord: Legolas Daesuuru; greatest and most terrible of them all! With strength enough with the ruling ring to challenge even the Valar! Even Eru the One himself! None shall stop me! I shall be King on High, supreme ruler of the universe... and all shall cower before me!_

Legolas smiled to himself, and drew his dagger from its scabbard. He held it lightly in one hand, stroking the smooth, black blade with the other; assiduously tracing the patterns of silver on its hilt. It was a beautiful weapon, and  his most valued possession, it had served him well over the years. Ever faithful, ever true. An Elf's best friend. Perhaps he should poison the blade… an interesting thought, worth serious deliberation. It was make killing easier… but then maybe it would also make it less pleasurable?

He felt a twinge in his jaw and touched his face with a grimace. His jaws shouldn't have been hurting so long after Crickhen's attack, it _shouldn't_ have, but it was, and he was pretty sure he knew why. The bastard wizard had done something to him that afternoon—and not just horribly torture him—no, it had been some kind of Black Magic, he was sure of that. A little reminder to Legolas that the wizard was watching, and waiting for him to make some kind of mistake.

Well, he wasn't going to give Crickhen the pleasure. He was not going to be making any mistakes; not this time, not ever… to be sure, he wasn't going to follow the Higher's  plan for him, he was going to do it his own way, for his own gains. And then… Legolas thrust his dagger into the dark wood of the balcony rail-it was polished, and the dagger didn't make a dent- and then, the Wizard would pay. Oh yes, he would pay dearly.

Smirking sadistically,  Legolas twisted his dagger round in the wood, watching the silver catch the sun and gleam brilliantly. He would make the wizard scream so loud his vocal cords would rip in his throat; his eyes would bulge in their sockets. He would make him beg for death and then he would-

"I am not sure whether tis safe approach, for I do not think I have ever seen you look so murderous, Legolas." Said a voice, starting him out of his thoughts with a jump. "What troubles you my old friend?"

"Aragorn!" said Legolas, focusing on the man leaning in the doorway. He blinked and shook his head. "Forgive me, I did not hear you approach" _Curses!_ He thought _how long has he been there…did I speak anything I shouldn't have? Damn my preoccupation!_

"Then those keen Elven ears of yours must be stuffed fool of sheep's fur." Laughed Aragorn, the light of jest shining in his normally sombre grey eyes. "If they cannot pick up the thud of these old boots on a wooden floor."

"Or maybe you are spending too much time in the company of the fair folk, Dúnadan," replied Legolas, slipping smoothly back into his good and honourable façade; smooth, like a knife through warm butter. "For you walk now as lightly as any of my Elf kin."

"A compliment indeed, I am honoured!" sad Aragorn. He straightened and strode over to Legolas, grasping his arm in an affectionate greeting. "Tis good indeed to see you again, Legolas. With the news of the growing shadow over Mirkwood, I feared for you and yours."

Legolas looked and him thoughtfully, released his arm and sheathed his dagger. _Fool!_ He thought with a silent laugh _ worry about me? You should keep your worry for yourself my "friend"_ aloud he said. "I thank you for your concern, Aragorn, indeed the threat of the dark is looming greatly over my homeland, and I only wish I could be there to protect it, however a mission of great importance brings me to Rivendell, and now I learn that something bigger has come to pass here… will we never be free to live in peace?"

Aragorn sighed. "The answer to that I know not, but I hope…"he paused. "enough of that now, how fare you? I heard about the loss of Mordúlin,  Darrion and  Aritiach, grieved indeed you must be."

Legolas painted an elegiac look on his face. "Aye… but we can not dwell on the past, not when there is so much to see to in the present. Later, when I am through with all this.. then maybe, I will find time to mourn them properly, as they deserve."

Aragorn nodded soberly, and was about to say something when a single clear bell rang out. The pair of them paused for a second, then the man said: "That is the warning bell for the Council of Elrond, you are to attend also Legolas, that was what I was sent to tell you… come, we must hurry."

He turned and strode quickly out the door, Legolas paused a second before hurrying after him, it was time to but his plan into action…. He truly was a master of subterfuge.

******

Right, I wasn't actually going to post most of this, but since I haven't actually got round to the rest yet, I might as well.. a little bit of dramatic irony you might say. Sorry there's absolutely no action in this chapter *yawn* but I promise there will be in the next one.. Hang in there ok? ;)

[1]Translation: Well met Legolas, bad tidings you bring, but you are well?

[2] Translation: Good day Erestor, I hope I find you well? Trouble yourself not with this Elf, I will live (meaning survive) to see the stars again…

[3] Translation: I see… Your difficult journey has made you weary, follow me and you can rest Later we will talk.

[4] Translation: As you wish.


	5. 4 A Master of Subterfuge

**Chapter Four: A Master of Subterfuge.**

****

There were many people gathered for the Council of Elrond; some Legolas knew well, others were strangers, or people he knew only on sight. Of the latter groups most were dwarves, Legolas cursed silently: he _hated_ dwarves, he considered them to be greedy and avaricious creatures, interested only in gold and gems; besides, anything that spent its life digging around in caves was bound to be unwholesome. 

Lord Elrond sat at the head of the council, with Mithrandir, that meddling Wizard. And with them… with them were two of the strangest looking fellows Legolas had ever seen. They were small—shorter even than dwarves—and had oversized hairy feet. The hair on their heads matched that of it on their feet: thick and curly.  One of them was clearly quite old, for his face was lined and his hair was iron grey. But the other was much younger: his locks were dark brown with no hint of grey, and his face was creased only with fear and apprehension, large eyes continuously roving around, taking in everything.

Legolas considered these creatures thoughtfully as he took his seat between a dark haired Elf of Imladris and—unfortunately—a particularly hirsute dwarf, who, incidentally, seemed as unhappy about the arrangement as Legolas was. Could these things be… Halflings—what had Crickhen called them?… _Hobbits?_ The Elf almost laughed at the sheer absurdity of it: one of these little, child-like Hobbits carried the One Ring? It was quite ironic… and too easy.

But perhaps there was more to these Halflings than met the eye, Legolas mused as Elrond began speaking. The Lord of Rivendell introduced the Hobbits as Bilbo and Frodo Baggins respectively. Legolas almost raised an eyebrow at that: _Bilbo Baggins… why did he recognise that name? Ah, of course. The story about the Hobbit and his dwarf friends was well known in Mirkwood; after all they had stopped for a little… visit on their way to the Lonely Mountain. Legolas had been away in the Wilderlands at the time and so hadn't seen them, but it must have been well nigh sixty years ago …  Legolas knew little of these Halfling folk, but he suspected that they weren't very long lived. If that was the case, it didn't seem the old one had many years left._

But it was not Bilbo who really caught his interest. It was Frodo, son of Drogo. If, as Legolas suspected, this was the Hobbit who held the Ring then he was hardier than he looked, for to bring the ring such a great distance and still resist its evil was no easy task, nor was avoiding the watchful eyes of the Servants of Sauron, the Ringwraiths, who would surely be searching for the Ring. But then, this little Hobbit had had the protection of Aragorn, Legolas' eyes flicked to the tall Ranger, who sat alone in a corner. Aragorn was the best of the Rangers, and that meant he was the best of the best. Hardened by many years long travel, skilled in battle and healing-if anyone could have saved Frodo and all who travelled with him, then it would have been Aragorn.  He may have been a man, but with the noble blood of the Númenóreans coursing through his veins, and the wise counsel of Elrond in his head- Legolas derailed that train of thought right there, it mattered little _how_ the Hobbit had made it to Rivendell, _or_ how competent Aragorn was, (although he was nothing compared to Legolas himself) what mattered was that the Ruling Ring was there in Rivendell and… right before his eyes. 

Frodo the Hobbit had taken a chain from his pocket and laid the object upon it on the flat of his hand. As one, each member of the council leaned forward to look closer, save Elrond and Gandalf.

Legolas ran his tongue over his lips, those who saw took it for nervousness in the face of Isildur's Bane, but really it was in anticipation. Oh how he yearned for that Ring; that little band of Gold that held so much force... he could almost _feel_ the power radiating from it, calling him… wanting him…

Legolas stopped himself from reaching out for the Ring, it took little effort for the Elf had long ago schooled himself to almost immeasurable patience. He could wait, wait a thousand years to make the Ring his if he had to… but he wouldn't have to wait that long, for it was right before his eyes, within his very reach! If he wanted, he could take it now, and oh what sweet pleasure it would bring… yet here he was in the presence of some powerful Elven Lords: Elrond and Glorfindel, Galdor and Lindir to name but a few, not forgetting of course Gandalf… if he went for the Ring and they overpowered him, his secret would be out. Besides this was a mission of subterfuge, not all out warfare; things needed to be done gently, to avoid suspicion.

And so throughout the rest of the Council Legolas resisted the urge to take the Ring, instead he listened with genuine interest to the accounts of Gandalf—Saruman, now _that_ was an interesting development—Elrond, the dwarves, and the Man of Gondor: Boromir. The lascivious gleam in the Man's eyes, and his talk of using the Ring were not lost on Legolas, who mentally stored it all away for later use. Perhaps this Boromir could be of use to him.

His own news, of the escape of Gollum was greeted with dismay from all sides, especially from Aragorn, whose comments about Legolas' people would have earned him a knife through the throat if he had been anyone else, and had it been a different situation. {A/n: Hey, just cos the guy's an egocentric megalomaniac doesn't mean he's not patriotic!) ****

******

Legolas walked slowly down the corridor leading to his quarters, gazing ruminatively at the ceiling, one hand caressing the hilt of his dagger. It was  a strange little mannerism: Aragorn had once remarked that you could always tell whenever Legolas was deep in thought for he would always have his hand on his knife. Legolas was not sure himself why he did this, in a way it was… comforting.

Lost in deep thought, he let his feet take him wherever they desired, and his thoughtful wanderings led him in a round-a-bout way deep into of the House of Elrond; and the large elaborate planetarium which occupied the centre of the main building. It was an impressive place: the large domed vault of the ceiling illuminated with the many familiar and well loved star constellations of which the Elves are wont to call friends, the mighty marble columns looming around the room's perimeter, and the polished limestone floor inlaid with slabs of painted glass made for awe-inspiring viewing. The silence was buzzing as Legolas entered the darkened planetarium, footsteps echoing slightly on the smooth stone as he crossed to the centre of the room, where the doom was at its apex. He turned a full circle, gazing at the ceiling; at the heavens it represented. In time, all of it would be his: the very stars would be his to command; the peoples of Arda, and of any other world would be under his thraldom… he would reign on high! A sovereign… An emperor…. A God!

The thought was so pleasant, so_ enchanting_ that he permitted himself a merry chuckle, which soon turned into a silvery peal of delighted laughter, as he walked full circle around the mighty perimeter one hand stretched out; running over the smooth columns, eyes gazing still towards the sky. _Mine! All mine! Soon! _

"Our planetarium holds your favour, so I see." said a soft  voice from the arched doorway. Legolas turned, not bothering to remove the wide smile which still played around his lips.

"Aye, my Lady." Turning his gaze once more to the stars he said "There is no sight more wonderful than the shining stars at night; and no place more suited to honour their majesty than this. Tis truly a fine building: wondrous yet simple, better even than our own in deep Mirkwood, and from me you will find no greater compliment"

The Lady Arwen entered the room, quietly closing the brass hinged oak doors behind her. There was no light, save the simulated stars, but Elves need little light to see by, and Legolas could clearly see the Elven princess, clothed in  a mantle of Smokey grey- the colour accentuating her bright eyes- who stopped a little way from him, head tilted slightly, dark hair loosely flowing down her back. "You can find peace… solace… harmony within yourself through the stars" with each word she stepped closer to him; until she was so close that he could feel her warm breath on his face; see his face reflected in her eyes. "A wearied soul can find rest, a sinful heart forgiveness…. A troubled mind tranquillity…. Are you troubled Legolas?" Arwen reached up her hand and ran it through his long ash blond hair, twirling a strand around her fingers. "You can tell me if you are troubled… I can help you"

Legolas felt the distinct urge to move away, but he quashed it, and allowed the Lady to caress his hair unhindered; it felt nice. "I assure you my Lady, I am in perfect equanimity" he said neutrally, not wanting to let Arwen know how off balance he felt. "In fact I feel as free as a bird in—" he was cut off when Arwen pressed two fingers to his lips forcefully.

"Do not lie to me Legolas," she murmured, running her tongue across her cerise lips. "Your mouth says one thing, and yet your eyes say something else. Your eyes say that you are strained, weary under the weight of a heavy burden…. It is hard on you now, you are feeling the pressure of so many things on your shoulders. It is painful for you, I know, but I can help…I can help take some of that stress away…. Let me help you Legolas… let me shoulder some of that pain." She had him backed up against the wall now, his back forced against the marble pillar._ What does she know?_ He thought frantically_ she must know something, or why else would she back acting so strangely... what can she know?!_

"Lady, I am—" this time he was silenced by a fiery kiss to the lips. He stiffened in shock as she pushed her tongue forcefully into his mouth, one hand on the back of his head, pulling him into the kiss. It was startling, certainly, for the Lady Arwen had never before shown any signs of sexual interest in him, and he did not believe her to be as forward as this especially since Aragorn…. However, it was but not entirely unwelcome: she was not an uncomely wench by any man's standards, and she was the daughter of Elrond, his enmity… what made it even sweeter was that she was Aragorn's; and Legolas lusted for anything that wasn't his own. He would have taken Arwen anyway when the time came, but if she wanted him now (and who could blame her?) then Legolas wasn't going to complain… although he did think it more than a little strange. At this thought he tried to pull back—this was too strange—but all that brought was a stronger, more possessive kiss. And with the pressure of her lips against his he could feel his resolve weakening, all thoughts going hazy except for the thought of Arwen with him—it was seemingly becoming a far more appealing thought than it ever had before, and so he kissed her back; hungrily, passionately, wanting more… and so  he was immensely disappointed when she pulled back from him, an alluring smile playing around her full lips. 

"You taste sweet, son of Thranduil." She said with a wicked glint in her eye. "I wish to taste you more" at his move forward, she shook her head and placed a hand against his chest "…. But not here, come to my quarters tonight, when the moon is at her apogee… I will be waiting." And with that she strolled towards the door, hips swaying seductively. Legolas almost followed her. But no, tonight…. He could wait till then. He watched with wide eyes as she paused in the open doorway, and turned towards him, the light from the corridor seemed to illuminate her, like a seraphim of gold. "My father is in the outer courtyard with Gandalf if you wish to speak to him… I would go swiftly were I you." And then she was gone.

******

The words of Arwen rang true, and Legolas did indeed fine Lord Elrond deep in conversation with Mithrandir among the cobbles of the outer courtyard. Legolas wondered why Arwen thought he wished to speak with her father, surely not to tell him about their little liaison? Or maybe she did.. who knew with women… well, _that_ certainly was not going to happen. More important things needed to be discussed. 

And so the devious Elf plastered an amicable smile on his face and trotted out to join the Lord and the Wizard.

"Good morrow Lord Elrond, Mithrandir," said he with a regal nod to each. He clasped his hands behind his back and placed his feet apart, affecting a stance of nonchalance. "You will forgive the interruption, but I much desire to speak with you both; about this morning's council, which is what you are discussing now if I do not miss my guess."

"Well Met Legolas!" Replied Gandalf, who was leaning on his staff, and gave the Elf a cheery nod. "As perspicacious as always I see. You are correct, of course… I think the council is on many people's minds now, for it brought to light many issues… most, if not all, disagreeable."

"Indeed that seems to be the way of most things in this age." Said Elrond with a heavy sigh. "As the years go by the powers of the Elves seem to be waning. Our time in Middle-earth is coming to its end. We have seen many years, many defeats and many fruitless victories. We have done all we can to hold the evil at bay… and yet still the Shadow grows stronger Now as this age draws to an end, I fear that this may be our last stand… we must triumph now or be forever overcome by the Shadow."

"Tis a sobering thought, my Lord" said Legolas nodding sagely. "And that brings we directly to what I want to ask you… I wish to be a part of this Fellowship that is to accompany the Ring."

 "Is that so?" said Elrond neutrally. He folded his arms across the chest. "And why is that, pray?"

Legolas narrowed his eyes slightly, and pursed his lips in thought. There was something about the way the other Elf Lord had looked at him…_do you suspect me, Elrond? You are more astute than most, and you are not blinded by any love for me… I wonder though, would you have allowed my presence at the council if you believed me to be false? I doubt it…hmmm. A delicate balance._ "My Lord" he said finally, sincerely "Though these may truly be the fading days of our people, I still believe that the Elves have power still to govern and guide the hearts of others. The journey will be hard, and the task may seem insurmountable at times... some may falter. I would not. And maybe, I could use my pride, my courage and steadfastness to help the others. Besides, the Elves have fought the shadow since the first dawn, tis only fitting that we should be there at the last."

"Be that as it may, Legolas." Answered Elrond "I could send any Elves from my own household to do just what you have described. Why do you, personally, believe yourself to be the best choice?"

So it was going to take some persuasion was it? No matter. Legolas excelled at putting himself over, while retaining a modest attitude. It was an attribute he was quite proud of. He smiled. " I am a warrior, Lord Elrond. I have dedicated my life to the obliteration of the fell creatures of the East and the Dark Forces. It is my life's purpose, my vocation if you will. And if it truly is as you say; that this is our last great stand. Then, more than ever do I want to be a part of it. I am sure you know of my repetition as the best archer of my realm—and while that may be a bit over exaggerated, I _am_ skilled with the bow, and with many other forms of combat: armed and unarmed. Many years of warrior training, and actual battle, where one wrong move could mean instant death has made me quick and adaptable to any situation I may find myself in. I am well travelled, with experience of survival in the direst situations, and I know the terrain over the path that the Ring will have to take. I do not wish to sound arrogant, but I do believe I have the qualifications to be a part of this mission. But more than that, my Lord, _more than that_ I _wish_ to go. I am willing to endure whatever hardships whatever horrors it may bring… and is it not better to send one person who is willing to face perhaps certain death than ten of your finest warriors who are not? Do not deny me this chance, please. It is my destiny…"

Elrond tapped his lips thoughtfully.  "I do not deny that you are well versed in the ways of the wild, and are indeed a competent and  admired warrior, Legolas. And the fact that you are so willing to go sets a lot in your favour. The decision is not entirely mine, however. I shall have to speak with another before I can confirm that you will be going… but no doubt he will be eager to have you along. In the mean time, I have another task for you… if you will comply, I wish for you to go out with a scouting party, back to Mirkwood to inform them of all that has transpired.. if you are willing?"

Legolas was rather surprised by this, and annoyed _Drat! That will take me out of Rivendell for at least two months, in which time I cannot get my hands on the Ring1 I cannot say no though… it would be too suspicious.._ But he didn't let it show. Instead all he said. "If you wish it. Then so shall it be" 

******

"Legolas of Mirkwood has expressed his wishes to join the Fellowship when they journey South." Said Elrond to Aragorn,  who was leaning against the wall, head bowed as if deep in thought. "The Prince is a fine archer- perhaps the finest of his realm- and of a stout heart. I believe he would make a valuable ally."

Aragorn nodded. "I will vouch for Legolas, Elrond," he said. "We have travelled together oft afore now, and fought many a battle side by side. He is a brave and noble Elf, and one of the few I would consider a true friend. I can think of nobody I would trust more to accompany me on this perilous quest."

"Very well," said Elrond, bowing his head in acquiescence. "So, Legolas of Mirkwood will represent the Elves. Now of the Dwarves, I have chosen Gimli, son of Glòin…"

******

From his hidden perch on the window ledge, Legolas smiled evilly. "Oh, Aragorn you soft fool" he chuckled. "How you will come to rue those words…"  The Elf leapt lightly down and hummed a little as he strolled casually along. This all called for a celebration… and there was only one way Legolas liked to celebrate…

******

Ducking out into the night, the Elven Prince ran lightly along the bottom of the wall and out onto the lawn, his soft soled shoes making no noise on the smooth grass. He was dressed entirely in his favourite black: dark leggings and tunic, with his hooded midnight cape, hood pulled up. Legolas had twined his long blond hair into a single braid pushed it inside his hood, he didn't want anyone seeing it's pale colour that night, just in case.

He jumped atop a wall, ran nimbly across it and down the other side. Later he would make his way to Arwen's quarters for a little fun, but right now he needed a kill. Legolas hadn't been able to kill anyone or anything for days—that damn Erestor following him around all the time—and his knife was growing restless in its scabbard. 

The wind whipped the branches in the trees, moaning a lament for the future. _Come sing with me, come sing my songs of death…_ Legolas leapt across a bubbling brook and slipped quietly through some bushes towards a lighted window. He had come to a low roofed stone building: the servants quarters. Crouching down, he lifted up a black veil which covered his whole face but his eyes. He didn't normally wear it, but here there was the risk of detection, and he certainly couldn't have that.

A light in one of the windows enticed him, he slithered towards it, and raised his head just slightly to glance into it. It was a simple room, but comfortable. Small with a little bed, wooden stool and dressing table as well as a stone basin and water jug: just the room of a lowly scullery maid. _Perfect._

There was no one in the room, so Legolas made his entrance via the window, dropping noiselessly to the floor, and crossing to the door. Taking position behind it, be would wait until the girl came to bed… and then the fun would begin.

As it turned out he didn't have long to wait. He stiffened as he heard soft footfalls in the corridor and a female voice singing a quiet tune. The door opened, blocking Legolas from view, and a young, skinny girl no more than eighteen entered the room, humming to herself. Unaware of the danger, she shut and bolted the door, and, without looking behind her crossed to her little bed, undoing the strings of her apron as she went.

Legolas grinned. Oh the simplicity of it all.  He rose from his crouch and in two steps was directly behind her. She stiffened, as if sensing him and turned around. He saw a shudder pass through her body as she slowly brought her eyes up to meet his cold, emotionless ones.

"W-who are you…?" she whispered, backing away, only to be blocked by the bed. Her hand went out to steady herself and he caught it firmly. 

"I have many names" answered Legolas, in a low purring voice, nothing like his own. "But you may know me as… _Daesuuru_" At her terrified gasp, he felt like laughing, but quickly clasped his other hand over her mouth when he heard her exhale to scream. "Tut, tut, we don't want any of that now do we? Now you be a good girl and do as you're told and I wont hurt you, understood?" she just gazed at him out of frightened cerulean eyes, but he took it for assent. "That's a _good girl_!" he said with mock pleasantness. "She how easy it is when you do as I say? Right… I am going to take my hand from your mouth now, but remember this: one sound and you'll be dead, and I'll be gone, understood?" he didn't even wait for acknowledgement this time. His hand left her mouth, found his dagger and was at her throat before she even had time to react.

Now this was going to be the difficult part… he wanted the pleasure of her screams, but here, in this confined space, it would draw unwanted attention.  Shifting his grip on her arm, Legolas pulled her towards the window. "Out" he hissed "and do not even think about running" he shoved her rudely onto the sill and she fell out the other side with a muffled thump. He heard her scramble up and try to run, but he had anticipated this: with a lithe leap through the window he landed behind her, shot out his hand and grabbing a handful of her dirty blonde locks yanked her back Legolas calmly gave the girl a fierce backhand. His blow sent her head snapping to the side, and blood trickled from a cracked lip, he saw tears in her eyes and her breathing was short and raspy, but she didn't cry out, he had to give her credit for that. "I said _do not_ run, girl, tsk, tsk. Not so good at taking orders are we? Ah well, now you see, you're going to have to be punished. It's such a shame, I really didn't want to have to kill such a pretty thing as you." He shook his head remorsefully as the girl whimpered in fear. Grasping her too tiny wrists in one of his strong hands, he dragged her off into the undergrowth. 

"Ah the Black Wind sings again…" he murmured as wind shook the bare branches of the trees, and swirled the crimson  leaves in little dervishes about their feet. Legolas pushed the girl onto the ground, and she lay their unresisting as he knelt down and straddled her hips. _Ah the ease of it all_. _Tis fun, yes. But I do sometimes wish for something a little more challenging… _"Now "he said pleasantly. "We're going to play a little game, ok? The rules are really simple: I ask you some questions, and you answer. You answer correctly, and you live, you don't and you die. Understand?" he  took his dagger and ran it gently down her cheek and neck. 

What she did next caught him completely off guard. Her hand, which was completely free from restraint, flew up and caught him squarely in the nose, and the other grabbed his wrist, twisting it, trying to make him release the dagger. He was so shocked that he actually let go, and the girl bucked her hips, unseating him and springing to her feet with unanticipated a agility. She snatched up the dagger and held it out in front of her, backing away at the same time. "Don't more you bastard, or I swear I'll scream so loud the whole of Rivendell will be out here to investigate!" Legolas was on his feet and right in front of her before she could say any more.

"You were saying?"

He girl opened her mouth and screamed, loud and terrifying. C_urses!_ Thought Legolas, he went for her arm, but she was quicker, pulling a side and striking out with the dagger. It was a random slash, but it found its mark: right in Legolas' shoulder. He hissed in surprise and pain, and stumbled back, collapsing to the ground, where he lay motionless. 

The girl stood still for a few seconds, obviously in deep shock. Had she _killed_ him? Blood dripped off the tip of the blade, and morbid curiosity overcame her. She crept forward and knelt down beside the body. It didn't move, and she couldn't see movement in the chest, so she cautiously raised her hand and prodded him.

_Thwack!_

Legolas shot out his arm and grabbed her wrist. He yanked it backwards, till she toppled forwards onto him, and he rolled over, their positions reversed. His groping hand found his dagger, and he raised it over her heart. "Next time, girl" he hissed. "stab more flesh and less cloth."

He plunged the dagger deep into her heart just as he heard the first running footsteps. he jumped to his feet wiping his dagger and sheathing it. He looked around at the mussed undergrowth and the dead girl, blood pooling around her and cursed himself for such a messy job.

But those footsteps were drawing ever nearer, and he couldn't afford to face them now.

He had no choice. 

He ran

******

Exceedingly sorry it took so long, damn computer has been completely f-d up, plus whenever it is alright you can guarantee my damn brother will be on it. Can you say obsessed??

Anyway, the next chapter wont take so long I promise and there is a lot more fun it that one. Just what is Arwen up to? Hmmmm?

Oh yes, and if I have made any dreadful typos I am very sorry, but tis late and I have had to type this up at express speed. So apologies all round it seems!


	6. 5 A Change of Plan

Note: before you read this I would just like to apologise in advance for (well, lets be frank) the shiteness of this chapter. I know, I promised this one would be quicker than the last one… well, it wasn't was it? Sorry, my bad. I haven't really got an excuse either, except to say I kinda had writer's block. Well, it wasn't really writer's block, it was more like I knew what I wanted to write I just couldn't get the words down on the page if you know what I mean…

This chapter is basically all dialogue, and reading it back, completely confusing. Once again, profuse apologies on my part for it complete lack of fluidly and basic insipidness. I will try harder.L

I'll probably redo this chapter if I think it necessary, because to be honest, I don't like it at all, but you all were threatening me with death, so I had to post it… please don't yell at me :P

**Chapter Five: A Change of Plan**

****

He ran.

Quickly and quietly, but he ran.

Legolas loped quickly up a small grassy knoll and jumped the small stream on the other side, cursing silently as he heard a small splash, and felt the ends of his long cape leaden with water. Was everything going to go wrong tonight? Hearing muffled voices he stopped, and pressed back into the shadows of a glade of trees. Adrenaline pumped through Legolas' body, he tensed and ever so slowly reached down for his dagger… his fingers brushed the leather scabbard, but where there should have been that familiar hilt, there was only thin air. His heart almost stopped. _Where was it?_ Had he dropped it? Had he left it with the body in his hurry to leave? Frantically, Legolas cast his mind back a few moments.. No, he distinctly remembered sheathing his dagger before running—curses! How he hated to run!—but where then, had it gone? It couldn't have just _fallen out… _then a more chilling thought struck him:what if someone found it? Would they recognise it as being his? It was a possibility, a very _real_ possibility. Damn! Things were going from bad to worse! He could feel blood seeping through his shirt and tunic, ruining his clothes, and those voices were getting closer.Legolas froze, becoming as still as death, and invisible in his dark clothing to any watching eyes. He listened and relaxed a little-he'd been able to here the Elves for sometime, whoever they were, they obviously were making no effort to be quiet. Legolas did not think they were out searching for him…and a sudden giggle from one of them confirmed it: it seemed as though Legolas had stumbled upon a pair of courting lovers.

Closing his eyes briefly in relief, Legolas slipped out and quietly stole away into the night, the young couple did not notice the shadow that passed over them, fortunately for the Elven Prince, their minds were on other things.

Legolas slipped quietly back into his room, shutting the door silently and locking it. He yanked his hooded cape off, dropping it carelessly on the floor as he crossed to his bed. Sinking down onto the soft mattress, he quickly began stripping off his tunic and shirt, shivering as the cold night air touched his naked flesh- the fire was unlit in its grate, and the window was open, having been used as an exit earlier that night.

Legolas discarded both tunic and shirt in the same way as his cape; all three were covered in his blood, and needed to be disposed of quickly. New clothes were easy to come by, an alibi for that night was not.

The Elf hissed slightly as he raised his hand to feel his wound; it was not deep, nor particularly serious, but it still stung to the touch. Blood traced lacy patterns down his chest, already drying black in some places. _Urgh_. _Unpleasant_. Legolas wrinkled his nose in disgust.. it wasn't the sight of blood that bothered him, per se… it was the fact that it was _his _blood. _How irksome._ It needed cleaning and dressing quickly in case it got infected. It looked like the trip to Arwen's was off tonight, he couldn't go injured, it would look a little suspicious. Licking his lips, Legolas caught the metallic taste of blood on his tongue, he grimaced and touched his nose, it was a little sore, but at least it wasn't broken. That was a blessing at least.

_Why oh why has everything gone so wrong tonight?_ Legolas mused as he began boiling some water and preparing a poultice to pack his wound. Could it be that he had just grown too complacent? Too confident in his own skills? He hated to admit it, but it was possible. However, something told Legolas this was not the entire reason… things had been going wrong for him since he had first started this mission: Mordúlin, the servant girl, almost getting caught by Aragorn… it was almost as if someone was toying with him, wanting him to be caught… and if that was the case, Legolas could bet he knew who it was, that bastard Wizard, if anyone was trying to sabotage him then it was him----

"Running from fights Legolas? How very _unlike_ you."

Legolas jumped, spun round in shock, and came face to face with that 'bastard Wizard' himself: Crickhen Moringolemo

"How in the name of the Valar did you get in here?" the Elf spat in surprise. He narrowed his eyes in hatred. "although being the cowardly snake that you are, I'm not sure I'm surprised you've managed to wiggle your way in somewhere."

The Wizard tutted and waggled his finger. "Tsk, tsk, now there's no need for personal insults Elf… besides I'm not really here."

Legolas gave him a sceptical look. "Indeed? Well you could have fooled me… though now you come to mention it, I have noticed you haven't got your normal noisome aroma today." He said snidely. "Well if you're not here… what am I seeing?"

Crickhen ignored the insult. "This" he said waving a hand down himself "Is not my body. It is merely an projectorary personification of myself."

Legolas blinked. "What?"

"Never mind Elf, I doubt you have the mental capacity to understand such complex theoretical ideas as-"

"Oh cut the periphrastic _shibbur__._" Said Legolas with a snicker. "You don't know do you?"

"Of course I know!" the Wizard spluttered drawing himself up to his full height, "Do you really think I'm going to reveal the most classified secrets of the Higher Council to a perfidious little _Shahkar_ such as you!" Crickhen trembled with his conviction, Legolas however, looked less than impressed.

"A perfidious little… _Shahkar_?" he said with a grin. "Well really, there's no need to be rude about it." The boiling kettle whistled loudly in the corner, vying for his attention, and Legolas took it. He poured some water into a bowl, dipped a cloth in and began sedulously cleaning his wound. He heard the Wizard snicker, and snapped "I'm busy Crickhen. Go away."

"Oh no Elfling." Replied Crickhen airily. "This isn't a social call—"

"I never suspected that it was."

"—I've been sent to give you a message—"

"Still the little messenger boy are we?"

"—From the Higher Council—"

"Oh dear, sounds ominous"

"—There has been a change of plan—"

"Really?"

"—It seems the Higher do not trust you as much as they once did, in fact they seem to believe that you may be a threat to them rather than an asset—"

"And I wonder who put _that_ idea in their heads?"

"and rather than trust you to take the Ruling Ring yourself they now want you to—if you interrupt me again Elf I will see to it that you eternally regret it—act as a… as spy, if you will. You will journey with this Fellowship" (Legolas briefly wondered how Crickhen knew about the Fellowship, after all it had only been announced that day; but he supposed the Wizard had his spies: ravens and whatnot.) "wherever they go, you are to go too. You are to keep up your act as the 'brave and noble Elf' and continue your little façade of camaraderie. Do nothing to try and take the ring or arouse suspicions. Even if the opportunity presents itself, DO NOT TOUCH IT! -That is a direct order from the Higher, do not disobey them- Instead you are to inform myself of the movements of the Ring through a device I'm about to give you, and then I will arrange for Orcs to ambush your company in a completely unsuspicious attack-- nothing will point to you, dear Elf if you keep your head down—and those same Orcs will be responsible of relieving our little Hobbit friend of the ring, and hopefully his life, as well as the life of the rest of the band, and delivering it to me. Safe and unharmed, without your rapacious paws all over it. I'm sure you will be rewarded for your loyalty… if not quite in the way you were hoping" Crickhen grinned "I hope I make myself understood?"

"WHAT?!" barked Legolas, so maddened was he that he flung out his arm, overturning the bowl and burning himself on the scalding water that splashed him ."_Dah!"_ he cursed, throwing the bowl against a wall, smashing it. His eyes burned with utter hatred as he looked back at Crickhen "NEVER! I—I _will not_ be some stupid little pawn in your damn game. I will—"

_"You will do as you're told!" _hissed the Wizard dangerously. "I have already shown you the punishment for insubordination, and that was just from me. Be warned: the Higher's wrath is much fiercer than mine own. They are not best pleased with you at the moment anyway, it would be unwise to anger them further."

Legolas' midnight blue eyes flashed with contempt. "Not best pleased? Ha. Why? What calumny have you been spreading now?"

"I have been 'spreading' nothing, Elf. Must I remind you that it is not-prudent- to go around killing people on a whim, it brings undue attention to yourself, and to the Higher. If you are discovered through some stupid mistake—as nearly happened tonight, then the whole security and secrecy of the Higher would be compromised. This though does not thrill them overmuch as you may have guessed… Speaking of tonight.." Crickhen's eyes lingered on Legolas' shoulders. "That's a rather unfortunate hole in your body. I can't see as it will be easy covering up how that happened, especially seeing as though there was a murder tonight. Awkward questions could be asked, Prince of Mirkwood you may be, but even you are not above suspicion."

"I will manage" said the Elf coolly

"You will not have to manage," said Crickhen simply "I will heal you"

Legolas snorted. "You will not touch me—"

"I do not need to touch you Elf…" Legolas gaped and stepped back, a wave of fiery heat ran through his body, and his shoulder itched almost unbearably. Crickhen dropped his hand and the heat stopped. Disbelievingly, Legolas raised his hand to his shoulder: where just seconds ago there had been an open wound now there was only flawless skin.. the injury was gone, as if it never were.

"Wha—"

"Don't even bother asking, Elf, because I'm not going to tell you. Just be grateful I was here"

"Hah!"

"You may mock, but one day, your overconfidence will be your undoing-"

"Says the master of modesty himself"

"—I really do wish you would stop interrupting me, Legolas, I find it most vexing—"

"And I really wish you'd go away and leave me in peace"

Crickhen sighed with impatience. "I will leave in a minute Elf, if only to get away form such infuriatingly snide remarks! However, before I depart there is something I need to give you" and from his pocket he produced a large blood red crystal on a heavy silver chain, it caught the light of one of the lamps and sent red shadows across the Wizard's haggard face. "This," he said "is a _Latsync Trysanc _the latest, and greatest invention of the Higher."

Legolas stared at it impassively. "A red crystal. Amazing."

"But not just any old red crystal! The _Latsync Trysanc _allows the bearer to communicate with another person holding a similar device from the over side of the Earth."

"So it's basically a plantir?"

"In a way, I suppose. But this is so much better; more discreet- just a pretty necklace to the untrained eye- lighter, easily portable and, best of all, only the one holding the _Latsync Trysanc _will be able to hear the other person. Ingenious don't you agree?"

"Hmm. And you're giving it to me why?"

"Should I even grace that with an answer? Why do you think, Elf? So you can contact me like I mentioned earlier, or had you forgotten already."

"I hadn't forgotten." Said Legolas with a sneer. "But there's just one problem" he added snidely

"And what is that, pray?"

"You're not really here. How, if I may be so bold as to ask, are you supposed to get it to me?"

Crickhen dropped the crystal. It fell in slow motion, turning gracefully and hit the wooden floor with a dead _thunk_.

"Magic."

Legolas crossed his arms and looked at the Wizard, his face expressionless. He was not going to give Crickhen the pleasure of knowing his surprise, and slight trepidation.

"If that is all" he said coldly the malice in his tone freezing like icicles. "You can leave now. Before you learn the strength of _my_ ire."

"Sulking Legolas?" Crickhen clicked his tongue. "Why you always blame me for your own delinquency I know not, Elf. It is not my fault that there has been a change of plan. The Higher simply do not think you are …how shall I put it… efficacious in your present role as assassin-- can I help it if I happen to agree?" the Wizard gave Legolas a dangerous smile. "Oh Legolas, Legolas," he said sweetly "you could have done so well under my tutelage, but you had to go and reject me didn't you? Well, now you're paying the price, tsk, tsk. You could have been the best, the highest ranking under myself, but you ruined it all when you snubbed me. I bet you're regretting that now aren't you? Ah…. I hate to sound banal, but that's the way it goes I'm afraid... consider it a lesson in life."

Legolas narrowed his eyes. "You bastard, you instrumented all this didn't you? You convinced the Higher in some round-a-bout way to assign this mission to me, and then worked your lies to have it taken away from me, as if you knew how much this meant to me… Why? Is this a measure of revenge for you? Haven't you had enough 'revenge' over the years? Must you continually ruin everything for me? Damn you, Crickhen.. one day I'll get _my_ revenge on you, and you'll rue the day you _ever _messed with me!"

"Oh Elf," Crickhen chuckled, "do you think you intimidate me? You really are full of yourself aren't you? Well, think what you will, but this had nothing to do with me. Despite what you seem to believe, I haven't even _begun_ to exact my revenge on you yet…" And he was gone

Legolas stood where he was for a minute, staring at the _Latsync Trysanc. _Then, cursing his apprehension, quickly strode over and picked it up. The crystal was cold against his skin; unnaturally so. The blood red hue seemed to burn like scarlet fire; so bright it was the Legolas found himself shielding his eyes slightly. Odd. Very odd, how an inanimate object made him feel so ill at ease.

Sighing, he slipped the heavy chain around his neck. He would worry about the crystal another time. Damn that bloody Wizard! How he hated him! Sweet revenge would be when it was finally his, when he had that ring. And he would have that ring, whatever Crickhen and those fools of the Higher council thought.

If they believed that simple orders would put him off, they were very much mistaken. Indeed, he would play it their way for now, but only for now.

Yawning, Legolas rubbed his eyes, it was late and for some reason he was suddenly overcome with tiredness. What he really wanted was to climb into bed and sleep the rest of the twilight hours away (an extremely abnormal thing for him to want to do; Legolas was a creature of the night but he was past caring right then). He couldn't think straight, and this situation needed careful deliberation, best thought about with a clear mind.

Stifling another yawn, the Elf bend down and scooped up his bloodied cape and shirt, bundling them up and shoving them into an innocuous looking bag; he'd deal with them in the morning too.

Sleep was beckoning, and Legolas was succumbing to its charms when he heard a sharp rap on his door. With a sigh of vexation, and slight concern—who would be calling at this time of night? Legolas pulled on a long robe and yanked open the door.

"What?" he snapped to the nervous looking servant peering up at him.

"Begging your pardon, my Lord Legolas but the Lady Arwen wishes to speak with you immediately" said the servant, obviously amazed that Arwen would be wishing to speak to _anyone_ at such an hour. "She said to come at once as it is a matter of utmost urgency."

"Arwen?" muttered Legolas to himself. He shook his head, confused. What did Arwen want with him….Ohhhh… and it all came back to him.: "_You taste sweet, son of Thranduil, I wish to taste you more…. But not here, come to my quarters tonight, when the moon is at her apogee… I will be waiting."_ How had he forgotten? What was wrong with him? Something weird was going on here, and Legolas was determined to find out what.


	7. 6 Deception and Denial

Chapter six: Deception and Denial 

****

"You're late" Arwen greeted Legolas at her door, she was wearing a thin silk peignoir, loosely tied, soft slippers and very little else. Legolas blinked. It was almost indecent.

"You did not have to send a servant to get me, if he talks of tonight it could promote… gossip." He said, pointedly. 

"He will not talk." Answered Arwen, giving the servant a meaningful glance, she dismissed him with a wave of her hand, and then turned back to her visitor with a smile. "And he has naught to talk of anyway… Come now Legolas, stop fretting and enter, we have much to discuss" she stepped away from the door to allow him entry. "and he night is already getting old."

******

Arwen led Legolas through the dark anterooms of her quarters straight to her own bedchamber.  It was pleasantly warm—with the fire piled high with logs, and well lit—numerous oil lamps burning in their brackets.

Legolas looked around with interest, he had never been in any of the Ladies' rooms before. And they were quite different to the men's, well to his at least. Arwen had a capacious four poster bed, hung with heavy drapery, and a thick shag pile on the floor; his bed was single and simple, and his floor was wooden. He wondered if someone was trying to tell him something. Not that it mattered really, he wasn't one for creature comforts (which was a good thing as often he would go without seeing a bed, single or otherwise for years on end) and he thought carpets were just plain silly—imagine all the effort it would take to clean them if something, like blood, say, got spilt on them? He could be doing without that, thank you very much.

"Wine, Legolas?" murmured Arwen, offering him a goblet, he accepted graciously and took a sip. It was nice, a little too sweet for Legolas' taste, but still nice.

"The wine is to your liking?" the Elven Princess had poured herself a glass also from the silver decanter, and was now watching him with a curious smile on her face, goblet pressed lightly to her chest.

"Aye, my Lady, it is." Answered Legolas, taking another sip to show his sincerity.

Arwen's grin widened. "Good" Slowly, and deliberately, the she-Elf tipped her glass upside down, spilling the wine all down her chest. She raised her eyes to meet Legolas', and smiled alluringly "Woops"

******

Legolas sighed and sat up, brushing locks of damp hair away from his flushed face. He  bent and retrieved his long robe from where it had been hastily discarded and, shrugging it on, turned to face Arwen. 

She was already clothed in a silken nightgown, and, facing away from him, was running a silver backed comb through her mussed tresses. Legolas felt he should say something, it was only polite.

"Lady, I--- " he faltered. What exactly did one say to a Lady after making love? Was he supposed to engage her in small talk? Maybe make a witty remark about what had just happened? It was not a concept he was familiar with. Not that he'd never lain with a woman before. He had, of course, on numerous occasions; it's just that normally they'd gone to sleep after, or just got up and left…_ai! I'm out of my depth!_

She still wasn't speaking. He decided to try again. "My Lady, tonight was.."  he cleared his throat, despite his best efforts, he still felt embarrassed. "tonight was.. most enjoyable, most enjoyable indeed… however, one thing plays on my mind: Aragorn-"

"Is my betrothed and the holder of my heart, Legolas. I love him, and none other." Arwen cut in smoothly. Legolas was completely nonplussed.

"But… I do not understand"

Arwen sighed "It's really quite simple Legolas. Estel is away much of the time, he is a Ranger, after all, and cannot devote the time to me that I require from a mate. I quite understand why of course, and do not begrudge him that, but I have certain… instincts that will not be quieted. Indeed should not be." She turned to look at him. "We should not deny our carnal desires Legolas, it is quite unhealthy. Therefore I satisfy myself with attractive males—such as yourself—and Estel is none the wiser to my discontent. " Arwen shrugged and returned to combing out her hair,  she looked as if she'd just had to explain that the sky was blue, or that rocks were hard.

Legolas pursed his lips, he guessed it made a weird kind of sense, but it was something he himself would think up, not a respectable Lady like Arwen Evenstar. _Do not be such a hypocrite Legolas,_ a little voice in his head said_ it's not exactly like you're the respectful Elf you claim to be… haven't you learnt not to take people on face value yet? Idiot._

_Shut up_ he told himself angrily

_Hahaha _ the voice taunted _talking to yourself little Elfling? Well now I never thought you'd resort to that... first sign of madness y'know? Although I don't think you were quite compos-mentis to begin with were you?_

'Little Elfling' there was only one person who ever called him that Legolas realised with horror 

_You! Get out of my head you stinking bastard!_

_Ho ho ho. I'm not in your head, Elfling, it's the crystal, it's how we communicate with it; trough thought. Ingenious is it not?_

_Oh fabulous_ Legolas thought acidly _wonderful_, _just what I need, the goddamn stinking excuse for a Wizard clogging up my thoughts—_

_Do not forget that this 'goddamn stinking excuse for a Wizard' can hear everything you are thinking, Elfling,_ the Wizard sounded (although, technically speaking Legolas couldn't actually hear him) incredibly smug. It made something awful occur to Legolas.

_How long have you been listening to my thoughts_ he wondered suspiciously. He could here the Wizards cackling laughter in reply

_Long enough, Legolas—_

_Why you—_

"Legolas, why are you talking to yourself?" Arwen's sceptical voice brought him out of his reverie.  She had moved and was now standing over by the door, hands clasped behind her back, head tilted quizzically.

Legolas shook his head, he could still here Crickhen's mordant laughter in his head; it was most off-putting. "Forgive my insolence Lady, but I have a lot on my mind…"

"Then perhaps you had better retire. I hear you are leaving tomorrow morning, you should be fully rested for your journey."

Legolas nodded and stood, glad for an excuse to be gone, he walked towards the door, and Arwen moved to make way for him, he stepped though, but froze as he felt the cold metal bite of a  blade pressed into the small of his back. Slowly, carefully, he raised his arms and turned round.

Arwen was before him, the silver-etched hilt of a black dagger held in her slim hand was pointing directly at his heart. Legolas stared at the dagger in mortification and disbelief. It was… his, the one he had lost earlier that night, how in the name of the Valar had Arwen managed to get her hands on it?

Legolas slowly raised his eyes to hers; as cold an unforgiving as steel. "My lady?" he said calmly.

"Did you know Legolas, that earlier tonight one of my lades-in-waiting was found dead in the woodland not a mile from where we are standing?" said Arwen conversationally. Legolas didn't know what to say, so he just raised his eyebrows in what he hoped was polite miscomprehension. Arwen continued. "Yes, and do you know how she was killed? A dagger. Straight through her heart. Isn't that awful, Legolas?" she continued not even waiting for his reply. "And do you know what I found, when I was out walking? This little dagger, not a few feet away from the corpse" (Legolas wanted to ask why Arwen was out by the dead girl alone, but he wisely kept it to himself) "Don't you think it's a little bit of a coincidence that I find 'your' dagger—and it is yours isn't Legolas—right next to the girl?"

Legolas' mouth had gone dry, and sweat had popped out on his palms, and was rolling down his back, it was like all the moisture had evaporated from his mouth and had materialized at every other point on his body, although for some bizarre and fortunate reason, not on his brow.

"Are you accusing me of murder?" he said evenly.

"Are you denying it?"

*******

Hahahahaha… I am leaving it there!! Mwahahahaha.. how evil of me. I'm sorry, but I am incredible rushed at the moment, what with my GCSEs in full swing and revision and the rest :S anyway, sorry to keep you hanging but.. tough.

**To reviewers:**

Thanks for all your lovely comments and encouragement, it makes my day getting reviews, I thrive on recognition… hehe, but if you do have an constructive criticism to make, please do! I honestly need all the help I can get, and am not easily offended, all comments will be taken into due consideration, and thanks once again for taking the time to read and review my work, greatly appreciated :P

Ok.. personal comments. **Orderly and Optism**: how long, well organised me has a chapter plan written out, it might not even go to that plan knowing me, but I've got it to  10 chapters (11 counting prologue) if that's too long, then I'll condense it down for ya, k? J

**Addicted and Obsessed** I complain because I am! Lol. Has Crickhen got an obsession for Legolas…. Hehehe I guess it depends on your interpretation on 'obsession' :P

**Fireweilder **and** Mebrireth**: thanks huns, you're too nice to me!:P


	8. NOTE TO READERS

**Note to readers….**

Ok, I really hate to say this, but we're having the internet cut off for a while in our house for some 'unknown' reason; well, actually I know the reason, it's cos we're going to have to pay for it now, and my brother basically lives on this thing (we're talking 12 hrs a day ppls!) I know that brings a bit of a buggery on my being able to update this story, but with any luck, I will manage to persuade my mum to give me access to the net for about five minute to update etc… so forgive me, but it might take a while.. :|

Exceeding sorry for such an annoyance, best wishes, Jo xx

PS. If you wish to email me at anytime, my address is: **cobalt_fire@hotmail.com**


	9. 7Departure and Death

Chapter Seven: Departure and Death

The silence stretched.

Legolas and Arwen stood motionless eyes locked in a silent battle. Who would break first? Who would look away and admit defeat? Finally Legolas sighed and dropped his gaze, Arwen's icy steel stare was enough to make any High Kings and Queens look away. He licked his lips, returned his eyes to hers and said: "If I did, would you believe me?"

A stupid thing to say, given the circumstances; almost a straight out admission of guilt. Legolas mentally kicked himself. Hard. But Arwen didn't seem to hear the insinuation, or at least just ignored it. "That would depend, my friend on how convincing you were… I have no doubt I could be persuaded." She said with a sly grin. 

Even now, where every sign pointed to discovery, detection and death, Legolas was struck by Arwen's blatant suggestiveness… was the woman just obsessed with copulation? 

"I admit to nothing." 

"But do you deny nothing?" said Arwen with a grin, she was enjoying this

Oh Legolas thought he had her measure all right. The conniving little bitch. If she wanted to toy around. Fine. "If that is how you want it: I deny everything."

"Oh come now, _bein_ _tithing*,_ you've got to try harder than that"

That did it. Now he was peeved._ Bein tithin _indeed! "Arwen! Now is not the time for games! I demand you let me go at once!"

She laughed, mocking him. "You are not in a position to 'demand' anything, methinks _ernil_ _neth_**"

"You do not scare me."

Arwen shook her head still laughing. "You are such a terrible liar Legolas, I do not know how you've gotten away with it all these years."

Legolas narrowed his eyes. "Gotten away with what exactly?"

Arwen prodded him with the dagger, hard enough to make him flinch slightly.  "I grow tired of your pretence, Legolas," she said "either admit it or I will kill you"

_Then I lose either way_ he thought. "That will not look well in the morning. How would you explain my death to your father?"

The other Elf's shrug was eloquent. "I will think of something"

"Then kill me. I admit to nothing"

To Legolas' immense surprise, Arwen didn't try to attack him as he had anticipated; instead she laughed, pressing the black dagger into his hand. "Well done Legolas, you passed the test!"

Legolas was dumbfounded. "What?"

"The test my dear boy, the test! We wanted to be sure of your loyalty to the cause. The "I'll die before I betray my people" kind of thing.. anyway. Well done you passed, aren't you pleased?"

Legolas was still very confused, but some things were beginning to dawn on him. "You're… one of us?" he said slowly.

Arwen clapped her hands together rather mockingly. "So you've finally caught on? I was wondering how long it would take you… in fact I was beginning to think that you'd never click. I know I'm good, but I didn't think you were _that_ dense, Legolas"

Legolas bristled. "Why was I not informed of your persuasion?"

"My.. persuasion, oh Legolas, you _do_ make it sound sordid, which I suppose it is—"

"Arwen!"

She raised her hands defensively. "Tis not my fault you were unaware of the situation, I was under the impression that Masker Crickhen was to inform you before you arrived so we could rendezvous… when it became obvious he hadn't I took matters into my own hands, invited you here tonight, and decided to test your loyalty- oh, and also to reprimand you for that brainless murder you attempted earlier this evening--"

"Peace! I've heard all this from Crickhen—the bastard—" he muttered. "Now, what did you wish to talk about?"

"You're mission of course… now, I have been keeping and ear to the ground and it seems that yourself and our Wizard friend-" Arwen pulled the crystal off from Legolas; neck, "-don't want him listening do we?—are not getting along too well. As it so happens, Legolas, neither are he and I—I suppose he does not like Elves—"

"Get  to the point!"

"Patience, dear Elf! I have formulated a plan to bring down that troublesome Wizard and his supporters… now all I need is your help…"

******

**Two Months later**

Legolas, newly returned from his voyage back to Mirkwood, was desperately in search of Arwen- he needed to confirm some details of the plan, and also see that she had in her possession a means of communicating with him; namely her own _Latsync Trysanc- _but it seemed she was no where to be found.

However…

"Hey!" Legolas turned at the sound of eager, high pitched voices. He was greeted with the site of two little Hobbits, beaming up at him. "Are you the Elf who's joining the Fellowship?"

Legolas looked a little bemused. "I am."

"Legolas, right?"

"That's correct."

"I'm Merry" Said on of the indistinguishable Hobbits

"And I'm Pippin!"

"Indeed?" said Legolas vaguely. Where _could_ Arwen be?

"They say you're the best archer of your realm" piped up one of the cousins, Legolas was unsure which.

"_They_ say a lot of things master Merry."

"Pippin"

"Sorry."

Legolas wandered off, still in search of the ever-elusive Arwen with the Hobbits trailing along behind him, asking inane questions and chattering incessantly in a most irritating manner. Legolas ignored them mostly, and the indistinct replies he did give seemed to satisfy them, so they distracted him little, and he eventually found Arwen. All was confirmed, and now only time would tell.

******

The Fellowship was formed, and Legolas could not help but wonder at the Lord of Rivendell's choices. A more bedraggled bunch of no-hopers you could not expect to find anywhere. Except of course for his brilliant self. Actually… now he came to think about it, _he_ was really not an especially good choice to defend the ring, considering who he was; but then again, Lord Elrond didn't know that, and therefore it could not be held against him.

However… the rest of them: it was almost laughable. Aragorn, well, it had to be said that the man did have his merits; he was good with a sword, had some healing skill and knew his way in the wild. But he was, notwithstanding, still merely a man. The same went for Boromir, a proud man, but likely weak… actually Legolas was quite pleased that Boromir was included; he still thought he could make use of the man somehow.

As for the rest, Legolas was particularly annoyed that the incredibly hairy dwarf he'd had the misfortune of sitting beside in the council was Gimli, Glóin's son, the dwarvish representative. Besides smelling, and being two feet smaller than Legolas was, Gimli carried a doubled headed, two handed battle axe, in Legolas' opinion, ranking with the Orcish scimitar as one of the most unsightly weapons of war, and to top it all off: Gimli had a beard. Granted it covered most of his face, and that could be nothing but a good thing, but a beard was a beard, and beards were dirty. How did one keep one's face clean?

Gandalf the Wizard was more than a mere annoyance, that old man knew things… Legolas would have to be especially careful around him. Who knew what Wizards could do, if Crickhen was anything to go by.

And then there were the Hobbits. The inclusion of Frodo was logical, even if it was stupid logic; but the addition of Sam, and the two miscellaneous other halflings was nonsensical. Elrond had said some drivel about friendship being the strongest thing to combat evil with-- ha! Lets see how friendship withstands a knife through the ribs!-- But in Legolas' opinion Lord Elrond might've well have given three extra ponies, those would at least have been some use!

For his part, Legolas had brought Thalion along, the packs on his trusty stallion held some important things; and Sam had brought that travesty of a pony, Bill, but all their over supplies would have to be carried on their backs.

And so that was the Fellowship. Pathetic in Legolas' eyes, the last hope of the world in everyone else's. The fate of the world rested on their shoulders, and Legolas was going to do everything he could to bring it crashing down around their feet.

******

40 days and 40 nights they travelled South, and Legolas was growing bored and frustrated. He had used his crystal a few times, reporting their movements to Crickhen. Each time he asked for instructions, and each time he got told to wait for new orders. The last time he had spoken to the Wizard he had got so annoyed that he actually threw his crystal as hard as he could into the tangled undergrowth, and had a frantic 10 minute search trying to find it again, in which he got severely scratched and stung by all manner of nasty looking plants. Legolas had no doubt that was Crickhen's doing, plants just weren't malicious unless you used magic on them.

Aragorn and Sam had seen the _crebain_ of Dunland flying overhead one night, spies of Saruman no doubt, and that was a welcome relief. He could not believe how tedious it was being nice to people all the time, especially those facetious little Hobbits! It was actually wearing him down, having no time to unwind by killing something, and he began to think that if some orders did not come soon he would end up killing one of the Halflings just to shut them up!

However, seeing the spies gave him new heart, the Higher were watching and that was good, instructions would come soon he was sure of it.

******

Winter was coming on, and the snow was falling, it had become obvious that Gandalf meant to try and scale the passes of Caradhras, even though Aragorn counselled the way of the Red Horn Gate. Either way was bad, but up the mountain was worse, if anything had evil in it's soul it was Caradhras.

Legolas had no wish to climb Caradhras, but if they must they must. Yet it was growing late, and they would not try until morning… and still no word had come from the Higher. Legolas was truly peeved now, and decide he just had to have a little fun, nothing important…. Just fun.

******

The snow was coming down quite thick now, and Legolas went to check his horse. Standing by Thalion's head, he stroked the white stallion's nose and began whispering to him. His horse flicked its eyes, and shifted it's weight, the look in it's liquid eyes suggested it was listening.

Nearby, Sam also stood with Bill, talking happily to the shaggy pony while feeding him carrots. With a final pat, Legolas left his horse, and went and sat by the fire, whetting his knife on a stone, humming softly.

Presently, Sam came back and joined them, talking happily as he cooked. Sam enjoyed doing the cooking for the group. He was quite the little housewife. Merry and Pippin joined in the conversation, Frodo was silent as usual, looking inward and hardly listening to the conversation. Gimli, Gandalf and the two Men set to lighting their pipes and were soon puffing away contentedly on their disgusting leaf.

Suddenly in the silence of the night air there was a scream; the high-pitched squeal of an animal in pain. As one, the group to their feet and sprinted into the glade where they had hobbled their horses.

The sight that greeted them was thus: Thalion, his ears lying flat on his skull, eyes rolling madly, was aiming vicious kicks at Bill. The smaller pony was dancing out of the way other horse's hooves, but already there was a long bleeding gash on one of is flanks. Thalion's kicks were hard, and his hooves iron shod.

"BILL!" cried Sam, aghast, as Thalion lashed out again and again. "MAKE HIM STOP!" he screamed. "LEGOLAS! MAKE HIM STOP!!"

"Thalion!" said Legolas sharply. "Stop!" But it was to no avail, no one could get near the horses without fear of getting kicked themselves, and so they stood and watched in hopeless silence. All except Legolas, who was enjoying the show, and mentally urgng his horse on.

And they watched, Sam sobbing, the others staring, as finally, the white stallion landed a fearful blow to the tiring Bill's right front leg. There was a _crack_ a scream of pain, and the pony crumpled to the ground. Then there was silence, as everyone froze in disbelief.

"NOOOOOO!!!" Sam screeched flinging himself towards his fallen pony. "NOOOOOO!! BILL!!" And then Aragorn was beside him, lifting him bodily, thrusting him into Boromir's arms.

"Take him away," he said harshly, "I will see to this. GO!" he shouted as they hesitated, and go they did, a sad and disbelieving group back to the campfire that no longer seemed so warm.

******

They sat in silence, except for one of Sam's occasional sniffles. Boromir had a comforting arm around him, and the other Hobbits were patting his shoulders, unsure what else to do.

"I think you had better go see to your horse, Legolas," said Gandalf quietly. Legolas hesitated, but rose. He really didn't want to miss the fun here.

Just then, Aragorn came striding back into the camp, wiping his sword blade with a cloth. Sam, who was sitting morosely by the campfire, sprang up angrily, fire burning in his normally cheery blue eyes. "YOU KILLED BILL!! YOU KILLED MY HORSE!!" he cried hysterically, flinging himself at the Ranger in a frenzied rage. Aragorn gently fended off the Hobbit's grief stricken attack with a sad grimace.

"Sam… Sam, listen to me!" he said strongly, gripping Sam's wrists in his strong hands to stop him failing about. "Bill was in dreadful pain, he'd broken his leg, Sam… he was in _pain_ I _had_ to put him out of his misery. You understand that don't you? Don't you?"

"If you ask me, the nag's well out of it" said Legolas blandly, biting into his apple. Aragorn just looked at him, still gripping a sobbing Sam.

"That is not a helpful comment, Legolas."

The Elf raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. "I do not understand why he is so upset." He stated. Seven pairs of disbelieving eyes swivelled towards him.

"His horse just died." Said Pippin incredulously.

"'Tis only a horse" Legolas shrugged.

Gimli tutted and bent to tend the fire. "I bet he would be singing a different tune if it was _his_ brute that had copped it… after all it was that vile creature's fault that Bill is dead anyway, twas he that kicked him."

Legolas snorted derisively. "Are you insinuating that Thalion had malicious intent, Dwarf?"

Gimli returned the snort with one of his own. "Harrumph. I would not be surprised."

Legolas looked daggers at him. "You should know, Dwarf" he said, in a low dangerous voice. "That anyone who speaks ill of my horse speaks ill of me. And if you are alluding to my horse being wicked, then you are saying that I too, am of impious mind. If you are indeed implying that, then let me tell you now that that would be very unwise, I am a proud Elf and do not take to insults of that nature kindly… I am not a nice person to have as your enemy, you would do well to remember that."

"Is that a threat?!" Gimli growled

"GENTLEMEN please!" snapped Aragorn, who had had quite enough of the Elf and Dwarf's quarrelling to last him ten lifetimes. " If you cannot speak civilly to each other, kindly keep your sentiments to yourselves. I have no time for your petty arguments right now, and if it is simply beyond you to act like mature adults, I suggest you both turn around right now, and ask Elrond to send us some of your kin who will not spend every waking our of the day exchanging snide comments with each other and who might actually be of some use!"

"Hear, hear" muttered Gandalf.

Aragorn glared at them both, Gimli looked suitably cowed but Legolas just gave him an icy stare and stood up. "Where are you going" he yelled, getting really quite angry with the seemingly insubordinate Elf.

"To fetch some water." Answered Legolas, brandishing his water skin. "If that is OK with your majesty." And with that, he stalked off. No one could stalk quite like Legolas, if he had a tail, it would have been lashing.

"There is something bothering our Elven friend, Aragorn, for he is not acting like himself" observed Gandalf from around his pipe. "What do you think it could be, do you suppose?"

"I don't know." Returned the Ranger, staring after Legolas. "But I intend to find out."

******

Aragorn found Legolas not far from the camp, he was leaning against a tree, arms folded and eyes closed, seemingly nonchalant. He looked to be resting, but the Ranger had no delusions of catching his Elven friend unawares, for no matter how softly he trod, those Elven senses would still pick up his presence--

"Pray tell what you want, Aragorn, for I am weary and wish to be left in peace." --And he was right

Aragorn sighed. "What is wrong with you lately, Legolas? You have not been yourself for sometime, and it worries me… and what you said to Sam earlier, it was completely uncalled for, and so unlike you."

Legolas opened his dark blue eyes and fixed the man with an unblinking stare. "I was being honest," he said simply.

"There is being honest, Legolas and there is being crass!" snapped Aragorn matching the Elf glare for glare.

Legolas shrugged and look away past Aragorn. "Call it what you like," he pushed off the tree, ready to leave, but Aragorn strong arms pushed him backwards, pinning him to the tree trunk.

"We are not leaving here until you tell me exactly what is going on." Stated the Man mildly. "and we will stand here all day if you wish."

"I could easily overpower you if I so desired Aragorn." Said Legolas haughtily. The Ranger was unperturbed.

"You can try if you wish, my Elven friend, but I think you will find me more of a match for you than you think." He laughed at Legolas' petulant pout. "We can do this the hard way if you want it, but it would be so much easier for us both if you would just tell me." Legolas backed down.

"'Tis nothing… a disquiet has settled over my soul and has shadowed my being. I do not know why, but it is disturbing" Legolas frowned "and it angers me… it angers me greatly!"

"I can understand that, Legolas… and I suppose you have a right to be angry. But even if you _are_ angry, that does not give you the right to be cruel"

"I know," Legolas conceded with a heavy sigh. "I should not be taking my anger out on the group, it is not their fault, and for that I am sorry."

"'Tis not me you should be apologising to, my friend." Said Aragorn pointedly.

Legolas grimaced. "Yes, once again you are right, my old friend… I must apologise to Gimli, for I have caused him much grief, and it was not deservèd."

"He will appreciate it."

"Huh"

******

*Little pretty

**Young prince


	10. 8 Darkness Descends

I'm sorry, Legolas isn't very evil in this chapter :p He will be much more evil soon…

**Chapter Eight: Darkness Descends**

Legolas was checking his horse's legs—all sound, and that was a good thing—when the Calling came.

He could always tell when he was Called. The crystal that was resting against his skin went red hot, almost to the point of burning.

Carefully putting Thalion's hoof back on the ground (he didn't want the stallion going lame when he'd got through that vicious fight unscathed) Legolas walked a little way into the thicket and fished the crystal out of his tunic. He held it enclosed in his hand, long thong dangling towards the ground. "New Orders from the Higher?" the Elf said softly, ears straining to try and pick up any hint of a noise that might indicate an approaching fellowship member; and a threat.

"Orders, yes" rasped the croaky voice of Crickhen, sounding weirdly distorted through the _Latsync Trysanc._ "But first, your report"

Legolas sighed, but spoke. "All is _well_ here, and going according to _plan_… Crickhen, if you just let me kill them and retrieve the ring, it would be so much easier—"

"We have been through this, Elfling." Snapped the Wizard. "And still the answer is no. Even if you did manage to overcome all the other members of this _Fellowship_," he twisted the word into a curse "I do not trust you with the Ring. You are… unreliable."

"If I am so unreliable why did you send me?" snapped Legolas, frustrated. He was fed up with all this procrastinating; the job could be done so _easily_!

"We've been through this! It was a misguided judgement on the Higher's part, but what is done is done and there is no going back so you will have to do." Crickhen sighed.

"What is that that you wish me to do, then?" asked the Elf. _I'm going to enjoy watching you die, wizard. You will pay dearly for what you have put me through._

"You are still going into Moria?" at Legolas' assent, Crickhen continued. "Good. An ambush is planned. There is only one way through the mines that _Gandalf_ knows about, and we have stationed several hundred orcs at the far exit. Your job is to see to it that Gandalf takes the right path, one that should lead you through the great Hall

"Kill away, Legolas. Just watch out for that ring." And then he was gone.

_Bastard _Legolas thought, picking his way carefully out of the thicket.

* * *

****

** (MORIA)**

It seemed that Gandalf the almighty wise wizard was lost. The Fellowship had journeyed through the dank darkness of Moria for what seemed to Legolas like an age. He was a woodland creature who loved the clear outdoors and to be thus enclosed was painful for him.

Huddling down besides a cracked and broken pillar he watched Gandalf. The Wizard was sitting, pipe lit, staring at a juncture in their path that split off into two different directions. Legolas cursed silently, the darkness was pressing; Gandalf was taking too long in his deliberations and to make matters worse, Gimli the dwarf had set up camp next to Legolas and was enthusiastically trying to engage the Elf in a conversation about the Dwarvish realm.

"You know, Master Elf, as I was saying earlier, the great realm and city of Dwarrowdelf was once the greatest, most affluent mine in all of Middle Earth, full of light and splendour! You could say it was the very pinnacle of dwarfdom… gold, silver, precious jewels, all flowed out of here in their masses. Though of course it was mithril that really made the wealth of Moria… a great vein flows through this mountain-- pure mithril of the utmost value! Aye, this really was a place of riches!"

"If that is the really the case, then why are we sitting here atop broken buildings when I quite clearly remember you promising us feasts and fanfares from your cousins" Legolas replied snidely, the dwarf annoyed him.

"Aye, well…" Gimli shrugged uncomfortably. "You see…"

Legolas suddenly felt a burning sensation in his chest and his eyes flared. A sudden understanding washed over him… _see to it that Gandalf takes the right path… _"Mithrandir" Legolas jumped to his feet. "We must take the right fork, I feel that is the way!"

"Hmm?" Gandalf came out of his reverie. "The right path you say? Yes… yes of course it is! How silly of me to forget! The way leads up… of course! Well done master Elf… this way everyone!"

Legolas smiled as he followed the wizard up the steep steps of the passage. He knew where these stairs lead, and he knew what awaited them at the top. Gandalf didn't know it but he was leading the Fellowship to their doom…

* * *

The passage widened out into a large cavern with wide carved pillars I rows along the edge. It was dark and still and very… dead. Yes, a dead civilisation. Legolas felt uncomfortable, and he could see from the shadowy expressions and faint shifting of his companions that he wasn't the only one who felt this way.

"So quiet…" Gimli whispered, "Where are my people? Where are Balin's folk?" he walked forward, and then suddenly looked down and scooped something off the floor. "An orcish arrow… no! It cannot be! All of my cousins… slain?"

A faint noise, Legolas jerked his head. There it was again. A scrabbling, chittering... coming from above. He cast his eyes upward into the impenetrable dark.

"Legolas, you hear something?" Aragorn crossed to his side, tense, hand resting on his sword hilt. Legolas looked at him… so; this was Crickhen's ambush? Orcs in a enclosed space, and by the sounds of it many was their number. A sudden thought came to Legolas… he knew Crickhen, he knew what he wanted… he wanted Legolas to die here too in the confusion of the melee… and then… then he would take the Ring himself!

Well. That was not happening.

"We are not alone Aragorn. There are orcs, massing above. And they are not few in number."

"Orcs!" Aragorn hissed. He looked above and then back to Legolas. "How many?"

"Too many: hundreds at least. Aragorn" Legolas fixed him with a stare. "We cannot hope to win."

"Harrumph!" Gimli hefted his axe and glared around. "Let them come! There is still one dwarf standing in Moria! Let them feel the bit of my axe!"

"We must protect the ring bearer." Aragorn grabbed Frodo's shoulder and turned to Gandalf. "How far is the way out? Can we hope to outrun them?"

The sound was louder now, so even the men, with their weak senses, could here them. Slowly, they were advancing, crawling down the face of the pillars, still chittering, trying to psyche their enemies out. Legolas nocked an arrow to his bow, mentally calculating the number of his foes.

He shuddered at the thought of them near the One Ring. Filthy, corrupted mockeries of life! Orcs! There was no lower life form. He would kill them!! Kill them all before they tried to lay their disgusting paws on the Ring!

"Gandalf?!" Aragorn cried. Boromir had his sword ready, Gimli growled in anticipation and even the hobbits, small, almost useless as they were, were grimly holding their daggers, facing the enemy down.

The Wizard, who had been standing quite still, his head tilted to one side, suddenly jerked. He stared at the others, his eyes wild and staring; afraid. "Run…" he croaked. "The orcs are not the enemy here…run!"

He snatched Pippin's arm and hauled him forward, when suddenly the ground shook with such a force that the members of the Fellowship were thrown to the ground. Aragorn leaped to his feet, snatching his sword, which had skittered away and pulling Frodo to his feet. He glanced wildly around, at a room suddenly much darker and colder than before.

The orcs clung to their pillars, or crouched on the floor, and hissed, no longer advancing, but retreating, scattering wildly. A much deadlier foe than they was approaching.

The Nine Companions had shakily regained their feet when the second shockwave hit them, the thunderclap accompanying it reverberating around the walls. Legolas managed to keep his feet but staggered drunkenly. He did not understand, was Crickhen trying to bring down the mountain on top of them? Was possible end would that achieve?

He felt the crystal against his neck blaze hot and the wizard's voice filled his head, louder, more powerful than before, filling his mind clouding his very thoughts… _I COMMAND MORE THAN MERE ORCS TO MY WILL! WITNESS THE GREAT SHADOW OF MORIA!! SEE THE FLAME AND SHADOW OF DURIN'S BANE!_

_THE BALROG OF MORGOTH…MINE TO CONTROL! RUN LITTLE LEGOLAS; LET ME SEE YOU FLEE!_

The sounds of the real world came rushing back in, the screams of the scattered orcs who strayed to close to that distant fiery shadow. Legolas watched in horror as the advancing darkness with its tongues of incandescent flame devoured the stricken creatures. He found himself unable to move, awe froze his muscles. Here, in front of him… Elfsbane.

He wanted to take it on… he wanted to beat it, yet Gandalf's voice came through the fog of his raging emotions, talking urgently to the group "You cannot beat this foe… it is beyond any of you… we must fly to the bridge of Khazad-dum.. there I will hold the pass.

Fly!"


End file.
